POR. God bless your grace, spoke ye[483] with the Lord Morton?
SKINK. I have, and must about his business to the Court.
It grieves me to break my sport with Gloster:
The melancholy earl is comfortless.
POR. I would your grace would comfort him from hence,
The Fleet is weary of his company.
[REDCAP knocks.
SKINK. Drink that, some knocks; I prythee, let me out,
His head shall off ere long, never make doubt.
[Exeunt.
Enter JOHN at the other door.
JOHN. Now, madcap, thou winn'st all; where art thou, Robin?
Uncased? nay, then, he means to play in earnest.
But where's my cloak, my rapier, and my hat?
I hold my birthright to a beggar's scrip,
The bastard is escaped in my clothes.
'Tis well he left me his to walk the streets;
I'll fire the city, but I'll find him out.
Perchance he hides himself to try my spleen.
I'll to his chamber. Gloster! hallo! Gloster!
[Exit.
Enter REDCAP.
POR. I wonder how thou cam'st so strangely chang'd!
'Tis not an hour since thou went'st from hence.