Con. What skin between my brows?
What skin, thou knave? I am a Christian;
And, what is more, a constable! What skin?[232]
Sir T. You are mistaken, friends.
Con. I cry you mercy.
Shape. The constable may call you anything
In the king's name, upon suspicion.
Sir T. We're cheated, friends: these men o' th' ordinary
Have gull'd us all this while, and now are gone.
Cas. I am undone! Ne'er let me live, if that
I did not think they would gull me. I perceive
Fancy doth much: see, how 'tis come to pass!
Cre. Where is my son? God bless, him!
Where is Andrew?
Pray God they have not taken him along:
He hath a perilous wit to be a cheat;
H'd quickly come to be his Majesty's taker.
Con. I took one Andrew Credulous this morning
In dishonest adultery with a trull;
And if he be your son, he is in prison.
Cre. Their villainy, o' my life! Now, as I am
A freeman and a grocer, I had rather have
Found forty pounds. I pray, go fetch him.
[Exit Officer.