Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,
Ralfe
Prince. Come hither Francis
Fran. My Lord
Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to-
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire paire of heeles, and run from it? Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in England, I could finde in my heart
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. How old art thou, Francis?
Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord