_Fer_. Well, sir, you shall. _Manuell_, I can no lesse than lay upon you The hand of my authority. In my Caroach[37] You shall with mee to _Sherris_, 3 leagues off, Where the Lords sitt to-morrow: there you must answer This most unbrotherly accusation. _Man_. And prove him a false caytiffe. _Fer_. I will be both your guard, sir, and your bayle And make no doubt to free you from this Viper. _Hen_. Viper! _Fer_. Y'are bound to appeare at _Sherris_, sir; And you were best not fayle. I have a certaine Daughter there shall meete you. Come. [_Exit Fer., Man., &_[38] _Hen_. Thither I dare you both, all three.--_Buzzano_! _Buz_. Sir? _Hen_. Saddle my Jennet? Ile to _Sherris_ presently. _Buz_. And I? _Hen_. And you; but I must schoole you, sirra. [_Exeunt_. (SCENE 2.) _Enter Pike, shackled, & his Jaylour_. _Jay_. Boon Coragio, man! how is't? _Pike_. Not very well & yet well enough, considering how the cheating dice of the world run. _Jay_. I dare not, though I have a care of you, ease you of one Iron unles I desire such Gyves my selfe. _Pike_. Las, if they were all knockt off I'me loaden with Gyves, Shackles, and fetters enough for the arrantest theefe that ever lay in my owne country in Newgate. _Jay_. Shackles, gyves, and fetters enough! I see none but these at your heeles, which come on without a shoeing horne. _Pike_. Yes, at my heart I weare them--a wife & children (my poore Lambes at home); there's a chaine of sighes and sobbes and sorrow, harder then any Iron; and this chaine is so long it reaches from _Sherrys_ to _Tavestock_ in _Devonshire_. _Jay_. That's farre enough in Conscience. _Pike_. Could I shake those Chaines off I would cutt Capers: poore _Dick Pike_ would dance though Death pip'd to him; yes, and spitt in your Hangman's face. _Jay_. Not too much of that nayther: some 2 dayes hence he will give you a choake peare[39] will spoyle your spitting. _Pike_. Pheu! _Jay_. For, let me see, to-day is Sunday; to-morrow the Lords sitt, and then I must have a care--a cruell care--to have your leggs handsome and a new cleane ruff band about your necke, of old rusty iron; 'twill purge your choller. _Pike_. I, I, let it, let it: Collers, halters, & hangmen are to me bracelets and frendly companions. [_Knocking-within_. _Jay_. So hasty? stay my leasure.--(_Enter 2 fryers_) Two fryers come to prepare you. [_Exit_. I. Hayle, Countryman! for we, though fryers in _Spaine_, Were born in _Ireland_. _Pike_. Reverend sir, y'are welcome: Too few such visitants, nay none at all, Have I seen in this damnable Limbo. 2. Brother, take heed; doe not misuse that word Of Limbo.[40] 1. Brother _Pike_, for so we heare, Men call you, we are come in pure devotion And charity to your soule, being thereto bound By holy orders of our mother Church.