SIR JOHN. Avant, you rascal! Go, sirra, be walking. Come, Doll, the devil laughs, when one thief robs another: come, mad wench, we’ll to saint Albans, and revel in our bower; hey, my brave girl.
DOLL.
O thou art old sir John when all’s done, yfaith.
[Exeunt.]
ACT V. SCENE III. St. Albans. The entrance of a carrier’s inn.
[Enter the host of the Bell with the Irish man.]
IRISHMAN. Be me tro, mester, is pore Irisman, is want ludging, is have no money, is starve and cold: good mester, give her some meat; is famise and tie.
HOST. Yfaith, my fellow, I have no lodging, but what I keep for my guess, that I may not disappoint: as for meat thou shalt have such as there is, & if thou wilt lie in the barn, there’s fair straw, and room enough.
IRISHMAN.
Is thank my mester hartily, de straw is good bed for me.
HOST.
Ho, Robin!
ROBIN.
Who calls?