Bold. Fortune, I thank thee; I will owe thee eyes
For this good turn! now is she mine indeed.
Thou hast given me that success my project hop'd.
Off, false disguise, that hast been true to me,
And now be Bold, that thou may'st welcome be.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Enter Whorebang, Bots,[103] Tearchaps, Spillblood, and Drawer: several patches on their faces.
Tear. Damn me, we will have more wine, sirrah, or we'll down into the cellar, and drown thee in a butt of Malmsey, and hew all the hogsheads in pieces.
Whore. Hang him, rogue! shall he die as honourable as the Duke of Clarence? by this flesh, let's have wine, or I will cut thy head off, and have it roasted and eaten in Pie Corner next Bartholomew-tide.
Drawer. Gentlemen, I beseech you consider where you are—Turnbull Street—a civil place: do not disturb a number of poor gentlewomen. Master Whorebang, Master Bots, Master Tearchaps, and Master Spillblood, the watch are abroad.
Spill. The watch! why, you rogue, are not we kings of Turnbull?
Drawer. Yes, marry are ye, sir: for my part, if you'll be quiet, I'll have a sign made of ye, and it shall be called the four kings of Turnbull.