JOHN. Sheriff, in any case be diligent.
Who's yonder? Fauconbridge?
GLO. How now, sweet chuck; how fares my lovely prince?
JOHN. What carest thou? or well or ill, we crave
No help of thee.
GLO. God's mother, do ye scorn me?
JOHN. Go'ut! what then?
RICH. Fie, leave these idle brawls, I prythee, John;
Let's follow that we are enjoin'd unto.
GLO. Ay, marry, prince, if now you slip the time,
Gloster will slip away; but, though he hate me,
I have done service; I have found him out.
RICH. A shame confound thee for thy treachery,
Inconstant dotard, timorous old ass,
That shakes with cowardice, not with years.
GLO. Go, I have found him, I have winded him.
JOHN. O, let me hug thee, gentle Fauconbridge;
Forgive my oft ill-using of thine age.
I'll call thee father; I'll be penitent;
Bring me where Gloster is; I'll be thy slave,
All that is mine thou in reward shalt have.