on special cause is here, Her army is moved on. I thank you, sir. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me: Let not my worser spirit tempt me again To die before you please! Well pray you, father. Now, good sir, what are you? A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows; Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to some biding. Hearty thanks: The bounty and the benison of heaven To boot, and boot! A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out That must destroy thee. Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough to't. Wherefore, bold peasant, Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence; Lest that the infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. Let go, slave, or thou diest! Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life, 'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder: ch'ill be plain with you. Out, dunghill! Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor your foins. Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse: If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body; And give the letters which thou find'st about me To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out Upon the British party: O, untimely death! I know thee well: a serviceable villain; As duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness would desire. What, is he dead? Sit you down, father; rest you Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry He had no other death's-man. Let us see: Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts; Their papers, is more lawful. 'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and