FAU. Marry of God, did I, thou lying knave?
DRA. I am a poor boy, sir; your worship may say your pleasure; our maids have had a foul hand with him. You said he would be sick; so he is, with a witness.
JOHN. Look about, Fauconbridge, here's work for you!
You have some evil angel in your shape.
Go, sirrah, bring us forth that Pursuivant.
Enter two, leading the PURSUIVANT, sick.
RICH. Gloster, thou wilt be too-too venturous;
Thou dost delight in those odd humours so,
That much I fear they'll be thy overthrow. [Aside.
PUR. O, O, O, not too fast; O, I am sick, O, very sick.
JOHN. What picture of the pestilence is this?
PUR. A poor man, sir, a poor man, sir: down, I pray ye; I pray, let me sit down. Ah, Sir Richard, Sir Richard! Ah, good Sir Richard! what, have I deserv'd to be thus dealt withal at your worship's hands? Ah! ah! ah!
FAU. At my hands, knave? at my hands, paltry knave?
DRA. And I should be brought to my book-oath, sir.