Orl. Yes, Sir,—as shafts by piecing are made strong,
So shall thy life be straightened by this wrong. [Aside and exit.
Lod., Ast., &c. In troth, we are sorry.
Mat. Brave men must be crossed; pish, it’s but fortune’s dice roving against me. Come, sir, pray use me like a gentleman; let me not be carried through the streets like a pageant.
Const. If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them.
Lod., Ast., &c. Be’t so: come.
Const. What are you, sir?
Bots. I, sir? sometimes a figure, sometimes a cipher, as the State has occasion to cast up her accounts: I’m a soldier.
Const. Your name is Bots, is’t not?
Bots. Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company.
Const. I know you are, sir: what’s she?