He'll speak for
himself!
Tennyson
[_Exit_.
HAROLD (_to_ FISHERMAN).
Fellow, dost thou catch crabs?
FISHERMAN. As few as I may in a wind, and less than I would in a calm.
Ay!
HAROLD. I have a mind that thou shalt catch no more.
FISHERMAN. How?
HAROLD. I have a mind to brain thee with mine axe.
FISHERMAN. Ay, do, do, and our great Count-crab will make his nippers
meet in thine heart; he'll sweat it out of thee, he'll sweat it out of
thee. Look, he's here!
He'll speak for himself! Hold thine own, if
thou canst!
_Enter_ GUY, COUNT OF PONTHIEU.
HAROLD. Guy, Count of Ponthieu?
GUY. Harold, Earl of Wessex!
HAROLD. Thy villains with their lying lights have wreck'd us!
GUY. Art thou not Earl of Wessex?
HAROLD. In mine earldom
A man may hang gold bracelets on a bush,
And leave them for a year, and coming back
Find them again.
GUY. Thou art a mighty man
In thine own earldom!
HAROLD.
