Pist. Come, let’s away.—My love, give me thy lips.
Look to my chattels and my moveables:
Let senses rule;[25] the word is, Pitch and pay;[26]
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog,[27] my duck:
Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor.[28]
Go, clear thy crystals.[29]—Yoke-fellows in arms,
Crosses L.H.
Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys,