III. v. 26. _hive_: Delius’s correction of _heave_, A, B, C. III. v. 51. _deep pathaires_: Delius conjectures _deep fet airs_; but Mr. Gollancz has probably solved the crux of the play by his suggestion,--‘“Pathaire,” I take to be some special form of “petarre,” _i.e._ “petard,” probably used in the metaphorical sense of passionate outburst.’--(Lamb’s _Specimens_, I. i. 297.) The use may be quite literal; for the form cf. Powell’s _Tom of All Trades_, p. 163, ‘An Enginere for making of Patars.’ III. v. 58. Quoted by Bullen as of ‘genuine Shakesperean flavour.’ He adds III. v. 112-130. III. v. 116. Mr. Bullen puts a comma at _use_. III. v. 131. _Thy_: several editors read _my_; but the sense is ‘the good turns I have done you.’ III. v. 133. Warnke explains ‘the quarrel has not yet thickened to so impenetrable a fence as to separate us for ever.’ Perhaps we should read ‘is not thick-set ill.’ III. v. 157. An inconsistency. Cf. II. i. 75. Holinshed quotes from the letter, ‘We have got a man for our purpose, we may thank my brother Bradshaw.’ The _Wardmote Book_ says nothing of Bradshaw’s innocence. SCENE VI _Country near Rochester._ _Here enters Greene, Will, and Shakebag._ _Shakebag._ Come, Will, see thy tools be in a readiness! Is not thy powder dank, or will thy flint strike fire? _Will._ Then ask me if my nose be on my face, Or whether my tongue be frozen in my mouth. Zounds, here’s a coil! You were best swear me on the interrogatories How many pistols I have took in hand, Or whether I love the smell of gunpowder, Or dare abide the noise the dag will make, Or will not wink at flashing of the fire. 10 I pray thee, Shakebag, let this answer thee, That I have took more purses in this down Than e’er thou handledst pistols in thy life. _Shakebag._ Ay, haply thou has picked more in a throng: But, should I brag what booties I have took, I think the overplus that’s more than thine Would mount to a greater sum of money Then either thou or all thy kin are worth. Zounds, I hate them as I hate a toad That carry a muscado in their tongue, 20 And scarce a hurting weapon in their hand. _Will._ O Greene, intolerable! It is not for mine honour to bear this. Why, Shakebag, I did serve the king at Boulogne, And thou canst brag of nothing that thou hast done. _Shakebag._ Why, so can Jack of Feversham, That sounded for a fillip on the nose, When he that gave it him holloed in his ear, And he supposed a cannon-bullet hit him. _Then they fight._ _Greene._ I pray you, sirs, list to Æsop’s talk: 30 Whilst two stout dogs were striving for a bone, There comes a cur and stole it from them both; So, while you stand striving on these terms of manhood, Arden escapes us, and deceives us all. _Shakebag._ Why, he begun. _Will._ And thou shalt find I’ll end; I do but slip it until better time: But, if I do forget---- [_Then he kneels down and holds up his hands to heaven._