HODGE. Call ye this seeing of fashions? Marry, would I had stayed at Putney still. O, Master Thomas, we are spoiled, we are gone. CROMWELL. Content thee, man, this is but fortune. HODGE. Fortune; a plague of this Fortune makes me go wetshod; the rogues would not leave me a shoe to my feet. For my hose, they scorned them with their heels; but for my Doublet and Hat, O Lord, they embraced me, and unlaced me, and took away my clothes, and so disgraced me. CROMWELL. Well, Hodge, what remedy? What shift shall we make now? HODGE. Nay, I know not. For begging I am naught, for stealing worse: by my troth, I must even fall to my old trade, to the Hammer and the Horse heels again: but now the worst is, I am not acquainted with the humor of the horses in this country, whether they are not coltish, given much to kicking, or no; for when I have one leg in my hand, if he should up and lay tother on my chops, I were gone: there lay I, there lay Hodge. CROMWELL. Hodge, I believe thou must work for us both. HODGE. O, Master Thomas, have not I told you of this? have not I many a time and often said, Tom, or Master Thomas, learn to make a Horse-shoe, it will be your own another day: this was not regarded. Hark you, Thomas, what do you call the fellows that robbed us? CROMWELL. The Bandetti. HODGE. The Bandetti, do you call them? I know not what they are called here, but I am sure we call them plain thieves in England. O Thomas, that we were now at Putney, at the ale there. CROMWELL. Content thee, man; here set up these two bills, And let us keep our standing on the bridge: The fashion of this country is such, If any stranger be oppressed with want, To write the manner of his misery, And such as are disposed to succour him, Will do it. What, hast thou set them up? HODGE. Aye, they’re up; God send some to read them, and not only to read them, but also to look on us; and not altogether to look on us, [One stands at one end, and one at tother.] But to relieve us. O cold, cold, cold. [Enter Friskiball, the Merchant, and reads the bills.] FRISKIBALL. What’s here? two Englishmen robbed by the Bandetti! One of them seems to be a gentleman. Tis pity that his fortune was so hard, To fall into the desperate hands of thieves. I’ll question him of what estate he is. God save you, sir; are you an Englishman? CROMWELL. I am, sir, a distress Englishman. FRISKIBALL. And what are you, my friend? HODGE. Who? I, sir? by my troth, I do not know my self what I am now, but, sir, I was a smith, sir, a poor Farrier of Putney. That’s my master, sir, yonder. I was robbed for his sake, sir.