Second Gent. He’ll starve the guard, if this be suffered: if we set court bellies by a monastery clock, he that breaks a fellow’s pate now, will not be able to crack a louse within this twelvemonth.
[Enter two villains; to them Vortiger, who seems to solicit them with gold, then swears them, and exit. Enter Constantius meditating; they rudely strike down his book, and draw their swords; he kneels and spreads his arms; they kill him, and hurry off the body. Enter Vortiger, Devonshire, and Stafford, in conference; to them the two villains presenting the head of Constantius; Vortiger seems sorrowful, and in rage stabs them both. Then the lords crown Vortiger, and fetch in Castiza, who comes unwillingly; Vortiger hales her, and they crown her: Aurelius and Uther, brothers of Constantius, seeing him crowned, draw their swords and fly.
Hor. Stay, fellow!
Sim. How, fellow? ’tis more than you know, whether I be your fellow or no; I am sure you see me not.
Heng. Come, what’s the price of your hide?
Sim. O unreasonable villain! he would buy the house over a man’s head. I’ll be sure now to make my bargain wisely; they may buy me out of my skin else. [Aside.]—Whose hide would you buy, mine or the beast’s? There is little difference in their complexions: I think mine is the blacker of the two: you shall see for your love, and buy for your money.—A pestilence on you all, how have you deceived me! you buy an ox-hide! you buy a calf’s gather! They are all hungry soldiers, and I took them for honest shoe-makers. [Aside.
Sim. I am a servant, yet a masterless man, sir.
Heng. Prithee, how can that be?
Sim. Very nimbly, sir; my master is dead, and now I serve my mistress; ergo, I am a masterless man: she is now a widow, and I am the foreman of her tan-pit.
Sim. Faith, and I thank your bounty, and not your wisdom; you are not troubled with wit neither greatly, it seems. Now, by this light, a nest of yellow-hammers! What will become of me? if I can keep all these without hanging myself, I am happier than a hundred of my neighbours. You shall have my skin into the bargain; then if I chance to die like a dog, the labour will be saved of flaying me: I’ll undertake, sir, you shall have all the skins in our parish at this price, men’s and women’s.
Sim. That were a jest, i’faith: spoil all the leather? sin and pity! why, ’twould shoe half your army.
Heng. Do it, I bid you.
Sim. What, cut it all in thongs? Hum, this is like the vanity of your Roman gallants, that cannot wear good suits, but they must have them cut and slashed in giggets, that the very crimson taffaties sit blushing at their follies. I would I might persuade you from this humour of cutting; ’tis but a swaggering condition,[411] and nothing profitable: what if it were but well pinked? ’twould last longer for a summer suit.
Sim. A shame on your crafty hide! is this your cunning? I have learnt more knavery now than ever I shall claw off while I live. I’ll go purchase land by cow-tails, and undo the parish; three good bulls’ pizzles would set up a man for ever: this is like a pin a-day to set up a haberdasher of small wares.
Sim. A foot do you call it? The devil is in that foot that takes up all this leather.
Sim. You could never have lighted upon such a fellow to serve your turn, captain. I have such a trick of stretching, too! I learned it of a tanner’s man that was hanged last sessions at Maidstone: I’ll warrant you, I’ll get you a mile and a half more than you’re aware of.
Heng. Pray, serve me so as oft as you will, sir.
Sim. I am casting about for nine acres to make a garden-plot out of one of the buttocks.
Heng. ’Twill be a good soil for nosegays.
Sim. ’Twill be a good soil for cabbages, to stuff out the guts of your followers there.