PHIL. No, I promise thee, nor did he look
For any but thyself, as I could guess.

WILL. Why, this is strange: but come, sir, let's away:
I fear that we shall walk here, till't be day.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ BOY.

[BOY.] O God, I have run so far into the wind, that I have run myself
out of wind! They say a man is near his end, when he lacks breath; and
I am at the end of my race, for I can run no farther; then here I be in
my breath-bed, not in my death-bed.[380]

_Enter_ COOMES.

COOMES. They say men moil and toil for a poor living; so I moil and
toil, and am living, I thank God; in good time be it spoken. It had
been better for me my mistress's angel had been light, for then perhaps
it had not led me into this darkness. Well, the devil never blesses a
man better, when he purses up angels by owl-light. I ran through a hedge
to take the boy, but I stuck in the ditch, and lost the boy. [_Falls_.]
'Swounds, a plague on that clod, that molehill, that ditch, or what the
devil so e'er it were, for a man cannot see what it was! Well, I would
not, for the price of my sword and buckler, anybody should see me in
this taking, for it would make me but cut off their legs for laughing at
me. Well, down I am, and down I mean to be, because I am weary; but to
tumble down thus, it was no part of my meaning: then, since I am down,
here I'll rest me, and no man shall remove me.

_Enter_ HODGE.

HOD. O, I have sport in coney, i'faith! I have almost burst myself with
laughing at Mistress Barnes. She was following of her daughter; and I,
hearing her, put on my fellow Dick's sword-and-buckler voice and his
_swounds_ and _sblood_ words, and led her such a dance in the dark as it
passes.[381] "Here she is," quoth I. "Where?" quoth she. "Here," quoth I.
O, it hath been a brave here-and-there night! but, O, what a soft-natured
thing the dirt is! how it would endure my hard treading, and kiss my feet
for acquaintance! and how courteous and mannerly were the clods[382] to
make me stumble only of purpose to entreat me lie down and rest me! But
now, and I could find my fellow Dick, I would play the knave with him
honestly, i'faith. Well, I will grope in the dark for him, or I'll poke
with my staff, like a blind man, to prevent a ditch.
[_He stumbles[383] on_ DICK COOMES.

COOMES. Who's that, with a pox?

HOD. Who art thou, with a pestilence?

COOMES