SIR JOHN.
Why sir, tis gold.
KING.
Yea, and I’ll cover it.
SIR JOHN.
The devil do ye good on’t, I am blind, ye have blown me up.
KING.
Nay, tarry, priest; ye shall not leave us yet.
Do not these pieces fit each other well?
SIR JOHN.
What if they do?
KING.
Thereby begins a tale:
There was a thief, in face much like Sir John—
But twas not he, that thief was all in green—
Met me last day at Black Heath, near the park,
With him a woman. I was all alone
And weaponless, my boy had all my tools,
And was before providing me a boat.
Short tale to make, sir John—the thief, I mean—
Took a just hundreth pound in gold from me.
I stormed at it, and swore to be revenged
If e’er we met. He, like a lusty thief,
Brake with his teeth this Angel just in two
To be a token at our meeting next,
Provided I should charge no Officer
To apprehend him, but at weapon’s point
Recover that and what he had beside.
Well met, sir John; betake ye to your tools
By torch light, for, master parson, you are he
That had my gold.
SIR JOHN. Zounds, I won ’t in play, in fair square play, of the keeper of Eltham park; and that I will maintain with this poor whinyard, be you two honest men to stand and look upon’s, and let’s alone, and take neither part.
KING.
Agreed! I charge ye do not budget a foot.
Sir John, have at ye.
SIR JOHN.
Soldier, ware your sconce.
[Here, as they are ready to strike, enter Butler and draws his weapon and steps betwixt them.]