kink, unto your tricks:
'Tis but a chance at hazard. There lies Gloster,
And here stands Skink; now, John, play thou thy part,
And if I 'scape I'll love thee with my heart.
[_Puts on_ PRINCE JOHN'S _cloak, sword, and hat_.
So, porter! let me forth.

_Enter_ PORTER.

POR. God bless your grace, spoke ye[483] with the Lord Morton?

SKINK. I have, and must about his business to the Court.
It grieves me to break my sport with Gloster:
The melancholy earl is comfortless.

POR. I would your grace would comfort him from hence,
The Fleet is weary of his company.

[REDCAP _knocks_.

SKINK. Drink that, some knocks; I prythee, let me out,
His head shall off ere long, never make doubt.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ JOHN _at the other door_.

JOHN. Now, madcap, thou winn'st all; where art thou, Robin?
Uncased? nay, then, he means to play in earnest.
But where's my cloak, my rapier, and my hat?
I hold my birthright to a beggar's scrip,
The bastard is escaped in my clothes.
'Tis well he left me his to walk the streets;
I'll fire the city, but I'll find him out.
Perchance he hides himself to try my spleen.
I'll to his chamber. Gloster! hallo! Gloster!
[_Exit_.

_Enter_ REDCAP.

POR. I wonder how thou cam'st so strangely chang'd!
'Tis not an hour since thou went'st from hence.

RED. By my Ch-Ch-Christendom, I ha-have not b-been h-here this three
nights; a p-p-plague of him, that made me such a ch-chanting, and
s-sent me such a ja-ja-jaunt! blood, I was st-stayed for Skink, that
ill-fa-fa-fac'd rogue.

POR. I pray God there be no practice in this change.
Now I remember these are Skink's clothes,
That he wore last day at the Parl'ament.

_Knock; Enter at another door_ JOHN _in_ GLOSTER'S _gown_.

JOHN. Porter? you Porter?

POR. Do you not hear them knock? you must stay, sir.

JOHN. Blood, I could eat these rogues.

RED. Wh-wh-what, raw?
'Tis a very harsh mo-morsel,
Ne-next your he-heart.

JOHN. A plague upon your jaunts! what, porter, slave?

RED. I have been at G-Gravesend, sir.

JOHN. What's that to me?

RED. And at Ca-Ca-Canterbury.

JOHN. And at the gallows! zounds, this frets my soul.

RED. But I c-could not f-find your s-s-sister the La-Lady
Fau-Fauconbridge.

JOHN. You stammering slave, hence! chat among your daws.
Come ye to mad me? while the rogue y