Alvi. He is so drunk, my lord, there is no talking with him.
Adam. Drunk! nay, then, wench, I am not drunk: th'art shitten quean to call me drunk; I tell thee I am not drunk, I am a smith, I.
Enter the Smith.
First Lord. Sir, here comes one perhaps that can tell.
Smith. God save you, master.
Rasni. Smith, canst thou tell me how this man came dead?
Smith. May it please your highness, my man here and a crew of them went to the ale-house, and came out so drunk that one of them killed another; and now, sir, I am fain to leave my shop, and come to fetch him home.
Rasni. Some of you carry away the dead body: drunken men must have their fits; and, sirrah smith, hence with thy man.
Smith. Sirrah, you, rise, come go with me.