Speed. Fair lady, we are your debtors, and owe you money:
Experience tells us that our bonds are forfeit,
For which your husband threaten'd to arrest us;
My shoulders love no such clappings; I love tobacco,
But would be loth to drink in Wood Street pipes:[102]
Some money we will pay ere we go hence:
I speak, you see, with grave experience.
Wife. I know it well, sir.
Lamb. Had not your husband (when he went about fowling
For the alderman's daughter) driven away the bird,
We might have bidden you to a better breakfast; But now you must take what we can set before you.
Wife. I am content to do so: you shall find
Nor me nor my husband carry a griping mind.
Enter Robert.
Now, coz, where's your uncle?
Rob. He's hard at hand, I saw him coming
With the Lord Mayor and Aldermen.
Lamb. Zounds! knight, if the mayor come,
The shoulder-clappers are not far off.