COB: A poor
neighbour
of your worship, come to
crave the peace of your worship; a warrant for one that
has wronged me, sir; an I die within a twelvemonth and
a day, I may swear by the law of the land that he killed
me.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
WELL-BRED: Soft, where's Master Matthew? Gone?
BRAIN-WORM: No, sir, they went in here.
WELL-BRED: Oh, let's follow them. Master Matthew
is gone to salute his mistress in verse. We shall have the
happiness to hear some of his poetry now. He never
comes impoverished. [_Exeunt._
SCENE III.--JUSTICE CLEMENT'S. COB _finds_ KITELY _and reports the
arrival of_ WELL-BRED'S _party_. KITELY _hurries home
in a panic. Enter_ CLEMENT _with_ OLD KNOWELL _and_ FORMAL.
CLEMENT (_to_ COB): How now, sirrah? What make
you here?
COB: A poor
neighbour
of your worship, come to
crave the peace of your worship; a warrant for one that
has wronged me, sir; an I die within a twelvemonth and
a day, I may swear by the law of the land that he killed
me.
CLEMENT: How, knave? What colour hast thou for
that?
COB: Both black and blue, an't please your worship;
colour enough, I warrant you. [_Baring his arm_.
CLEMENT: How began the quarrel between you?
COB: Marry indeed, an't please your worship, only
because I spake against their vagrant tobacco; for nothing
else.
CLEMENT: Ha! You speak against tobacco. Your
name?
COB: Cob, sir, Oliver Cob.
CLEMENT: Then, Oliver Cob, you shall go to jail.
COB: Oh, I beseech your worship, for heaven's sake,
dear master justice!
CLEMENT: He shall not go; I did but fear the knave.
Formal, give him his warrant. (_Exeunt_ FORMAL _and_
COB) How now, Master Knowell, in dumps?
