Bub. Why, that does you no harm. Gervase—master,
I should say—some compassion.
Staines. Serjeants, come back with him. Look, sir, here is
Your livery;
If you can put off all your former pride,
And put on this with that humility
That you first wore it, I will pay your debts,
Free you of all encumbrances,
And take you again into my service.
Bub. Tenterhook, let me go. I will take his worship's offer without wages, rather than come into your clutches again: a man in a blue coat may have some colour for his knavery; in the Compter he can have none.
Sir Lionel. But now, Master Scattergood, what say you to this?
Scat. Marry, I say, 'tis scarce honest dealing, for any man to coneycatch another man's wife: I protest we'll not put it up.
Staines. No! which we?
Scat. Why, Gertrude and I.
Staines. Gertrude! why, she'll put it up.
Scat. Will she?
Gera. Ay, that she will, and so must you.