_2._ Come, there are a band of 'em, I'll charge single. [_Exit Soldier[s]._ _Enter_ Protaldye. _Prot._ 'Tis wonderful dark, I have lost my man, and dare not call for him, lest I should have more followers than I would pay wages to; what throws am I in, in this travel! these be honourable adventures; had I that honest bloud in my veins again Queen, that your feats and these frights have drain'd from me, honor should pull hard, e'r it drew me into these brakes. _Devitry._ Who goes there? _Prot._ Hey ho, here's a pang of preferment. _Devi._ 'Heart, who goes there? _Prot._ He that has no heart to your acquaintance, what shall I do with my Jewels and my Letter, my codpiece that's too loose, good, my boots, who is't that spoke to me? here's a friend. _Devit._ We shall find that presently, stand, as you love your safety, stand. _Prot._ That unlucky word of standing, has brought me to all this, hold, or I shall never stand you. _Devit._ I should know that voice, deliver. _Enter Soldiers._ _Prot._ All that I have is at your service Gentlemen, and much good may it do you. _Devit._ Zones down with him, do you prate? _Prot._ Keep your first word as you are Gentlemen, and let me stand, alas, what do you mean? _2._ To tye you to us Sir, bind you in the knot of friendship. _Prot._ Alas Sir, all the physick in _Europe_ cannot bind me. _Devit._ You should have jewels about you, stones, precious stones. _1._ Captain away, there's company within hearing, if you stay longer, we are surpriz'd. _Devit._ Let the Devil come, I'll pillage this Fregat a little better yet. _2._ 'Foot we are lost, they are upon us. _Devit._ Ha, upon us, make the least noise, 'tis thy parting gaspe. _3._ Which way shall we make Sir? _Devit._ Every man his own; do you hear, only bind me, bind me before you goe, and when the company's past, make to this place again, this karvel should have better lading in him, you are slow, why do you not tye harder? _1._ You are sure enough I warrant you Sir. _Devit._ Darkness befriend you, away. [_Exit Soldiers._ _Prot._ What tyrants have I met with, they leave me alone in the dark, yet would not have me cry. I shall grow wondrous melancho[l]y if I stay long here without company; I was wont to get a nap with saying my prayers, I'll see if they will work upon me now; but then, if I should talk in my sleep, and they hear me, they would make a Recorder of my windpipe, slit my throat: heaven be prais'd, I hear some noise, it may be new purchase, and then I shall have fellows.