--
They were the best Yeomens' masters,
That ever were in England.
COBHAM.
Yea, except thou have a crew of seely knaves
And sturdy rogues still feeding at my gate,
There is no hospitality with thee.
HARPOOLE.
They may sit at the gat well enough, but the devil of
any thing you give them, except they will eat stones.
COBHAM.
Tis long, then, of such hungry knaves as you.
[Pointing to the beggars.]
Yea, sir, here's your retinue; your guests be come.
They know their hours, I warrant you.
OLD MAN.
God bless your honour! God save the good Lord Cobham
And all his house!
SOLDIER.
Good your honour, bestow your blessed alms
Upon poor men.
COBHAM.
Now, sir, here be your Alms knights. Now are you
As safe as the Emperour.
HARPOOLE.
My Alms knights! nay, th' are yours.
It is a shame for you, and I'll stand too 't;
Your foolish alms maintains more vagabonds,
Than all the noblemen in Kent beside.
Out, you rogues, you knaves! work for your livings!--
Alas, poor men! O Lord, they may beg their hearts out,
There's no more charity amongst men than amongst
So many mastiff dogs!--What make you here,
You needy knaves? Away, away, you villains.
SECOND SOLDIER.
I beseech you, sir, be good to us.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35