Whether you please to have me.
PUT.
Oh, he’s tame; let him loose, sergeant.
PYE.
Pray, at whose suit is this?
PUT. Why at your Hostesses suit where you lie, Mistress Cunnyburrow, for bed and board, the sum four pound five shillings and five pence.
PYE.
I know the sum too true, yet I presumed
Upon a farder day; well, tis my stars
And I must bear it now, tho never harder.
I swear now, my device is crossed indeed.
Captain must lie bite: this is Deceit’s seed.
PUT.
Come, come away.
PYE. Pray, give me so much time as to knit my garter, and I’ll a way with you.
PUT. Well, we must be paid for this waiting upon you, this is no pains to attend thus.
[Pye-board making to tie his garter.]
PYE. I am now wretched and miserable. I shall ne’er recover of this disease: hot Iron gnaw their fists! they have struck a Fever into my shoulder, which I shall ne’er shake out again, I fear me, till with a true Habeas Corpus the Sexton remove me. Oh, if I take prison once, I shall be pressed to death with Actions, but not so happy as speedily; perhaps I may be forty year a pressing, till I be a thin old man; That, looking through the grates, men may look through me. All my means is confounded: what shall I do? has my wits served me so long, and now give me the slip (like a Trained servant) when I have most need of ’em? no device to keep my poor carcass fro these Puttocks?—yes, happiness! have I a paper about me now? yes, too! I’ll try it, it may hit: Extremity is Touch-stone unto wit. Aye, aye.