Miles. Theres nothing lets me from going with you, but that tis a long journey, and I have never a horse. 45
Devil. Thou shalt ride on my backe.[1569]
Miles. Now surely her[e]s a courteous devil, that, for to pleasure[1570] his friend, will not stick to make a jade of him self.—But I pray you, goodman friend, let me move a question to you.
Dev. Whats that? 50
Miles. I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble?
Dev. An amble.
Miles. Tis well; but take heed it be not a trot; but tis no matter, Ile prevent it.
[Stoops.]
Dev. What doest? 55
Miles. Mary, friend, I put on my spurs; for if I find your pace either a trot or els uneasie, Ile put you to a false gallop; Ile make you feele the benefit of my spurs.