PHIL. Why, then, I know the matter: we met cross,
And so we miss'd; now here we find our loss.
Well, if thou wilt, we two will keep together,
And so we shall meet right with one or other.
WILL. I am content: but, do you hear me, sir?
Did not Sir Ralph Smith ask ye for a wench?
PHIL. No, I promise thee, nor did he look
For any but thyself, as I could guess.
WILL. Why, this is strange: but come, sir, let's away:
I fear that we shall walk here, till't be day.
[Exeunt.
Enter BOY.
[BOY.] O God, I have run so far into the wind, that I have run myself out of wind! They say a man is near his end, when he lacks breath; and I am at the end of my race, for I can run no farther; then here I be in my breath-bed, not in my death-bed.[380]
Enter COOMES.
COOMES. They say men moil and toil for a poor living; so I moil and toil, and am living, I thank God; in good time be it spoken. It had been better for me my mistress's angel had been light, for then perhaps it had not led me into this darkness. Well, the devil never blesses a man better, when he purses up angels by owl-light. I ran through a hedge to take the boy, but I stuck in the ditch, and lost the boy. [Falls.] 'Swounds, a plague on that clod, that molehill, that ditch, or what the devil so e'er it were, for a man cannot see what it was! Well, I would not, for the price of my sword and buckler, anybody should see me in this taking, for it would make me but cut off their legs for laughing at me. Well, down I am, and down I mean to be, because I am weary; but to tumble down thus, it was no part of my meaning: then, since I am down, here I'll rest me, and no man shall remove me.
Enter HODGE.