Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?
Enter Cloten.
Clo. I cannot finde those Runnagates, that Villaine
Hath mock'd me. I am faint
Bel. Those Runnagates?
Meanes he not vs? I partly know him, 'tis
Cloten, the Sonne o'th' Queene. I feare some Ambush:
I saw him not these many yeares, and yet
I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence
Gui. He is but one: you, and my Brother search
What Companies are neere: pray you away,
Let me alone with him
Clot. Soft, what are you
That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?
I haue heard of such. What Slaue art thou?
Gui. A thing
More slauish did I ne're, then answering
A Slaue without a knocke
Clot. Thou art a Robber,
A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe
Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I
An arme as bigge as thine? A heart, as bigge:
Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not
My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art:
Why I should yeeld to thee?
Clot. Thou Villaine base,
Know'st me not by my Cloathes?
Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rascall:
Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes,
Which (as it seemes) make thee
Clo. Thou precious Varlet,
My Taylor made them not
Gui. Hence then, and thanke
The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole,
I am loath to beate thee
Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe,
Heare but my name, and tremble