By what we can, which can no more but fly. [Alarum afar off.
[♦] If you be ta’en, we then should see the bottom
Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape,
[80] As well we may, if not through your neglect,
We shall to London get, where you are loved
[♦] And where this breach now in our fortunes made
[♦] May readily be stopp’d.
Re-enter young CLIFFORD.
[♦] Y. Clif. But that my heart’s on future mischief set,
85 I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly: