Wife. O, fear not, I'll be your surety, sir.
Clown. Do you not smell Poultry ware, Sir
Godfrey?
Speed. Most horribly; I'll not endure the scent on't.
Wife. Upon my trust, none here shall do you wrong.
[To Robert.] What is his business with the aldermen?
Rob. About the entertainment of the king,
That means to visit London.
Wife. Saw you your sad father?
Rob. I did; would I might never see man more,
Since he so hates my sight! the prison door,
Which gapes for comers-in, that mouth of hell,
Shut me out with a churlish cold farewell:
After my father's most unnatural part
Was play'd on misery's stage, mine uncle comes
In thunder on me, threatening with black storms
To nail me to the earth, if I relieved
My poor old father.
Enter Stephen.
Clown. Here's my master now, gentlemen.
Steph. O gentlemen, you're both welcome;
Have you paid this money on your bonds yet?