Grow the two tallest trees in Arden forest.

_1 Sher._ For what, pray, colonel, if we may be so bold?

_Gril._ Why, to hang you upon the highest branches.
'Fore God, it will be so; and I shall laugh
To see you dangling to and fro i'the air,
With the honest crows pecking your traitors' limbs.

_All._ Good colonel!

_Gril._ Good rats, my precious vermin.
You moving dirt, you rank stark muck o'the world,
You oven-bats, you things so far from souls,
Like dogs, you're out of Providence's reach,
And only fit for hanging; but be gone,
And think of plunder.--You right elder sheriff,
Who carved our Henry's image on a table,
At your club-feast, and after stabbed it through,--[11]

_1 Sher._ Mercy, good colonel.

_Gril._ Run with your nose to earth;
Run, blood-hound, run, and scent out royal murder.--
You second rogue, but equal to the first,
Plunder, go hang,--nay, take your tackling with you,
For these shall hold you fast,--your slaves shall hang you.
To the mid region in the sun:
Plunder! Begone, vipers, asps, and adders!
[_Exeunt Sheriffs and People._