Johns. But, Mr. Bayes, is not this some disparagement to a prince, to pass for a fisherman's son? Have a care of that, I pray.
Bayes. No, no, not at all; for 'tis but for a while: I shall fetch him off again presently, you shall see.
Enter Prettyman and Thimble.
Pret. By all the gods, I'll set the world on fire,
Rather than let 'em ravish hence my sire.
Thim. Brave Prettyman, it is at length reveal'd,
That he is not thy sire who thee conceal'd.
Bayes. Lo, you now; there, he's off again.
Johns. Admirably done, i'faith!
Bayes. Ay, now the plot thickens very much upon us.