HODGE.
Fortune; a plague of this Fortune makes me go wetshod;
the rogues would not leave me a shoe to my feet. For my
hose, they scorned them with their heels; but for my Doublet
and Hat, O Lord, they embraced me, and unlaced me, and
took away my clothes, and so disgraced me.

CROMWELL.
Well, Hodge, what remedy? What shift shall we make now?

HODGE.
Nay, I know not. For begging I am naught, for stealing worse:
by my troth, I must even fall to my old trade, to the Hammer
and the Horse heels again: but now the worst is, I am not
acquainted with the humor of the horses in this country, whether
they are not coltish, given much to kicking, or no; for when I
have one leg in my hand, if he should up and lay tother on my
chops, I were gone: there lay I, there lay Hodge.

CROMWELL.
Hodge, I believe thou must work for us both.

HODGE.
O, Master Thomas, have not I told you of this? have not I many
a time and often said, Tom, or Master Thomas, learn to make a
Horse-shoe, it will be your own another day: this was not
regarded. Hark you, Thomas, what do you call the fellows that
robbed us?

CROMWELL.