Reignald. First, sir, Resolve me one thing: amongst other merchandize Bought in your absence by your son and me, We engrossed a great commodity of combs, And how many sorts, think you? Old Lionel. You might buy Some of the bones of fishes, some of beasts, Box-combs, and ivory-combs. Reignald. But, besides these, we have for horses, sir, Mane-combs and curry-combs; now, sir, for men We have head-combs, beard-combs, ay, and cox-combs too; Take view of them at your pleasure, whilst for my part I thus bestow myself. [_Whilst he climbs to the balcony, they come forward with cords and shackles_. Clown. Well said, Reignald; nobly put off, Reignald; look to thyself, Reignald. Old Lionel. Why dost thou climb thus? Reignald. Only to practise the nimbleness of my arms and legs, ere they prove your cords and fetters. Old Lionel. Why to that place? Reignald. Why! because, sir, ’tis your own house. It hath been My harbour long, and now it must be my sanctuary; Dispute now, and I’ll answer. Owner. Villain, what devilish meaning hadst thou in’t, To challenge me of murder? Reignald. Oh, sir, the man you killed is alive at this present to justify it: “I am,” quoth he, “a trans-marine by birth”-- Ricott. Why challenge me Receipt of moneys, and to give abroad That I had sold my house? Reignald. Why! because, sir, Could I have purchased houses at that rate, I had meant to have bought all London. Clown. Yes, and Middlesex too; and I would have been thy half, Reignald. Old Lionel. Yours are great, My wrongs insufferable. As first, to fright me From mine own dwelling, till they had consumed The whole remainder of the little left; Besides, out of my late stock got at sea, Discharge the clamorous usurer; make me accuse This man of murder; be at charge of warrants; And challenging this my worthy neighbour of Forswearing sums he never yet received; Fool me, to think my son, that had spent all, Had by his thrift bought land; ay, and him too, To open all the secrets of his house To me, a stranger! O thou insolent villain, What to all these canst answer? Reignald. Guilty, guilty. Old Lionel. But to my son’s death, what, thou slave? Reignald. Not guilty. Old Lionel. Produce him then; i’ the meantime, and-- Honest friends, get ladders. Reignald. Yes, and come down in your own ropes. Owner. I’ll fetch a piece,[3.54] and shoot him. Reignald. So the warrant in my master’s pocket will serve for my murder; and ever after shall my ghost haunt this house. Clown. And I will say, like Reignald, “this ghost and I am friends.” Old Lionel. Bring faggots; I’ll set fire upon the house Rather than this endure. Reignald. To burn houses is felony, and I’ll not out till I be fired out; but, since I am besieged thus, I’ll summon supplies unto my rescue. [_He winds the horn_.