MUCEDORUS. It was my will an hour ago and more, As was my promise for to make return; But other business hind’red my pretence: It is a world to see, when man appoints, And purposely one certain thing decrees, How many things may hinder his intent. What one would wish, the same is farthest off. But yet th’ appointed time cannot be past, Nor hath her presence yet prevented me. Well, here I will stay, and expect her coming. [_They cry within, ‘Hold him, stay him, hold!’_] Some one or other is pursued, no doubt, Perhaps some search for me; ’tis good To doubt the worst, therefore I’ll be gone. [_Exit._] SCENE V. The same Cry within ‘Hold him, hold him!’ Enter Mouse, the Clown, with a pot. MOUSE. Hold him, hold him, hold him! Here’s a stir indeed; here came hue after the crier, and I was set close at mother Nip’s house, and there I called for three pots of ale, as ’tis the manner of us courtiers. Now, sirrah, I had taken the maidenhead of two of them—now as I was lifting up the third to my mouth, there came: Hold him, hold him! Now I could not tell whom to catch hold on, but I am sure I caught one, perchance a may be in this pot. Well, I’ll see. Mass, I cannot see him yet; well, I’ll look a little further. Mass, he is a little slave, if a be here; why, here’s nobody. All this goes well yet; but if the old trot should come for her pot?—ay, marry, there’s the matter, but I care not, I’ll face her out, and call her old rusty, dusty, musty, fusty, crusty firebrand, and worse than all that, and so face her out of her pot. But soft! here she comes. Enter the Old Woman. OLD WOMAN. Come on, you knave; where’s my pot, you knave? MOUSE. Go look for your pot; come not to me for your pot, ’twere good for you. OLD WOMAN. Thou liest, thou knave, thou hast my pot. MOUSE. You lie, an you say it. I—your pot? I know what I’ll say. OLD WOMAN. Why, what wilt thou say? MOUSE. But say I have him, an thou dar’st. OLD WOMAN. Why, thou knave, thou hast not only my pot, but my drink unpaid for. MOUSE. You lie like an old—I will not say whore. OLD WOMAN. Dost thou call me whore? I’ll cap thee for my pot. MOUSE. Cap me, an thou dar’st; search me, whether I have it or no. [_She searcheth him, and he drinketh over her head, and casts down the pot; she stumbleth at it, then they fall together by the ears; she takes her pot and goes out._] Enter Segasto. SEGASTO. How now, sirrah, what’s the matter? MOUSE. Oh, flies, master, flies. SEGASTO. Flies? Where are they? MOUSE. Oh here, master, all about your face. SEGASTO. Why, thou liest; I think thou art mad. MOUSE. Why, master, I have kill’d a dungcartful at the least. SEGASTO. Go to, sirrah; leaving this idle talk, give ear to me. MOUSE. How, give you one of my ears? not, an you were ten masters. SEGASTO. Why, sir, I bade you give ear to my words. MOUSE. I tell you, I will not be made a curtal for no man’s pleasure. SEGASTO. I tell thee, attend what I say. Go thy ways straight, and rear the whole town.