_Lila._ Why doe you call them fellows? doe not wrong Your reputation so, as you are meerely A Taylor, faythfull, apt to beleeue in Gallants 25 You are a companion at a ten crowne supper For cloth of bodkin, and may with one Larke Eate vp three manchets, and no man obserue you, Or call your trade in question for’t. But when You study your debt-booke, and hold correspondence 30 With officers of the hanger, and leaue swordmen, The learned conclude, the Taylor and Sergeant In the expression of a knaue are these To be _Synonima_. Looke therefore to it, And let vs part in peace, I would be loth 35 You should vndoe your selfe. _Tayl._ To let you goe _Enter old Nouall, and Pontalier._ Were the next way. But see! heeres your old Lord, Let him but giue his worde I shall be paide, And you are free. _Lila._ S’lid, I will put him to’t: I can be but denied: or what say you? 40 His Lordship owing me three times your debt, If you arrest him at my suite, and let me Goe run before to see the action entred. ’Twould be a witty iest. _Tayl._ I must haue ernest: I cannot pay my debts so. _Pont._ Can your Lordship 45 Imagine, while I liue and weare a sword, Your sonnes death shall be reueng’d? _Nou. se._ I know not One reason why you should not doe like others: I am sure, of all the herd that fed vpon him, I cannot see in any, now hee’s gone, 50 In pitty or in thankfulnesse one true signe Of sorrow for him. _Pont._ All his bounties yet Fell not in such vnthankfull ground: ’tis true He had weakenesses, but such as few are free from, And though none sooth’d them lesse then I: for now 55 To say that I foresaw the dangers that Would rise from cherishing them, were but vntimely. I yet could wish the iustice that you seeke for In the reuenge, had been trusted to me, And not the vncertaine issue of the lawes: 60 ’Tas rob’d me of a noble testimony Of what I durst doe for him: but howeuer, My forfait life redeem’d by him though dead, Shall doe him seruice. _Nou. se._ As farre as my griefe Will giue me leaue, I thanke you. _Lila._ Oh my Lord, 65 Oh my good Lord, deliuer me from these furies. _Pont._ Arrested? This is one of them whose base And obiect flattery helpt to digge his graue: He is not worth your pitty, nor my anger. Goe to the basket and repent. _Nou. se._ Away 70 I onely know now to hate thee deadly: I will doe nothing for thee. _Lila._ Nor you, Captaine.