CLOWN. My news, mistress? I'll tell you strange news. The dust upon London way being so great, that not a lord, gentleman, knight, or knave could travel, lest his eyes should be blown out: at last they all agreed to hire me to go before them, when I, looking but upon this letter, did with this water, this very water, lay the dust, as well as if it had rained from the beginning of April till the last of May.
CLARE. A letter from my Scarborow I give it thy mistress.
CLOWN. But, mistress—
CLARE. Prythee, begone,
I would not have my father nor these gentlemen
Be witness of the comfort it doth bring.
CLOWN. O, but mistress—
CLARE. Prythee, begone,
With this and the glad news leave me alone.
[Exit CLOWN.
THOM. 'Tis your turn, knight; take your liquor, know I am bountiful;
I'll forgive any man anything that he owes me but his drink, and that
I'll be paid for.
CLARE. Nay, gentlemen, the honesty of mirth
Consists not in carousing with excess;
My father hath more welcomes than in wine.
Pray you, no more.
THOM. Says my sister so? I'll be ruled by thee then. But do you hear? I hope hereafter you'll lend me some money. Now we are half-drunk, let's go to dinner. Come, knight. [Exeunt.