QU. MO. Sit you sure, Fitzwater.
CHES. For peace I yield to wrong.
JOHN. Now, old man, for your daughter.
FITZ. To see wrong rule, my eyes run streams of water.
[A noise within.
Enter COLLIERS, crying, A monster!
COL. A monster! a monster! bring her out, Robin: a monster! a monster!
SAL. Peace, gaping fellow! know'st thou where thou art?
1ST COL. Why, I am in Kent, within a mile of Dover.
'Sblood, where I am! peace, and a gaping fellow!
For all your dagger, wert not for your ging,[193]
I would knock my whipstock on your addle-head.
Come, out with the monster, Robin.
WITHIN. I come, I come. Help me, she scratches!