THE OLD PEASANT WOMAN [curtseying].
God bless you, sir. [She screams.
O, sir, a pain went through me.
FIRST MERCHANT.
That name is like a fire to all damned souls.
Begone. [She goes.] See how the red gold pieces glitter.
Deal: do you fear because an old hag screamed?
Are you all cowards?
A PEASANT.
Nay, I am no coward.