_Did hur not see hur true loves, As hur came from London? O, if hur saw not hur fine prave loves, Randall is quite undone._ Well, was never mortal man in Wales could have waged praver, finers, and nimblers, than Randalls have done, to get service in Londons: whoope, where was hur now? just upon a pridge of stone, between the legs of a couple of pretty hills, but no more near mountains in Wales, than Clim of the Clough's bow to hur cozen David's harp. And now hur prattle of Davie, I think yonder come prancing down the hills from Kingston a couple of hur t'other cozens, Saint Nicholas' clerks;[22] the morning was so red as an egg, and the place fery full of dangers, perils, and bloody businesses by reports: augh! her swords was trawn; Cod pless us! and hur cozen Hercules was not stand against two. Which shall hur take? If they take Randalls, will rip Randalls cuts out; and then Randalls shall see Paul's steeples no more; therefore hur shall go directly under the pridge, here was but standing to knees in little fine cool fair waters; and by cat, if hur have Randalls out, hur shall come and fetch Randalls, and hur will, were hur nineteen Nicholas' clerks. [_Exit._ _Enter +Captain+ and +Lieutenant+._ +Lieut.+ Which way took he? +Capt.+ On straight, I think. +Lieut.+ Then we should see him, man; he was just in mine eye when we were at foot o' th' hill, and, to my thinking, stood here looking towards us upon the bridge. +Capt.+ So thought I; but with the cloud of dust we raised about us, with the speed our horses made, it seems we lost him. Now I could stamp, and bite my horse's ears off. +Lieut.+ Let's spur towards Coomb House:[23] he struck that way; sure, he's not upon the road. +Capt.+ 'Sfoot, if we miss him, how shall we keep our word with Saunder Bloodhound in Fleet Street, after dinner, at the Fountain? he's out of cash; and thou know'st, by Cutter's law,[24] we are bound to relieve one another. +Lieut.+ Let's scour towards Coomb House; but if we miss him? +Capt.+ No matter; dost see yonder barn o' th' left hand? +Lieut.+ What of that? +Capt.+ At the west end I tore a piece of board out, And stuff'd in close amongst the straw a bag Of a hundred pound at least, all in round shillings, Which I made my last night's purchase from a lawyer. +Lieut.+ Dost know the place to fetch it again? +Capt.+ The torn board is my landmark; if we miss this, We make for that; and, whilst that lasts, O London, Thou labyrinth that puzzlest strictest search, Convenient inns-of-court for highway-lawyers, How with rich wine, tobacco, and sweet wenches, We'll canvas thy dark case! +Lieut.+ Away, let's spur. [_Exeunt._