GLO. Will you to the door, you fool, and bar the gate?
Hold, there's an angel for your broken pate:
If any knock, let them not in in haste.
BLO. Well, I will do, as I see cause;
Blood, thou art dear to me.
But here's a sovereign plaister for the sore:
Gold healeth wounds, gold easeth hearts!
What can a man have more? [Exit.
LADY F. Dear brother, tell us how you made escape?
GLO. You see I am here, but if you would know how,
I cannot 'scape, and tell the manner too,
By this I know your house is compassed
With hell-hound search[492].
LADY F. Brother, I'll furnish you with beard and hair,
And garment like my husband's.
How like you that?
GLO. Well, when I have them:
Quickly, then, dispatch. [Exit LADY.] S'blood! turn
Grey beard and hair.
Robin, conceal; this dieteth my mind.
Mirth is the object of my humorous spleen.
Thou high, commanding fury, further device!
Jests are conceited. I long to see their birth.
Re-enter LADY FAUCONBRIDGE.
What, come ye, sister? Robin, a thief's hand!
But, prythee, where hadst thou this beard and hair?
LADY F. Prince Richard wore them hither in a masque.
GLO. Say'st thou me so? faith, [I] love the princely youth;
Tut, you must taste stolen pleasure now and then.