Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg, when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell, and stand fast
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd
Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?
Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close
Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: euery man to his businesse. Enter Trauellers
Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges
Theeues. Stay
Tra. Iesu blesse vs
Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats; a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs youth; downe with them, fleece them
Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer
Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons, on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.