God bless his Highness, and confound his enemies!
I hope his Majesty is well.

BUTLER.
In health, my lord.

COBHAM.
God long continue it! Me thinks you look
As though you were not well: what ails you, sir?

BUTLER.
Faith, I have had a foolish odd mischance,
That angers me: coming over Shooters hill,
There came a fellow to me like a Sailor,
And asked me money; and whilst I stayed my horse
To draw my purse, he takes th' advantage of
A little bank and leaps behind me, whips
My purse away, and with a sudden jerk,
I know not how, threw me at least three yards
Out of my saddle. I never was so robbed
In all my life.

COBHAM.
I am very sorry, sir, for your mischance. We will send
our warrant forth, to stay such suspicious persons as
shall be found. Then, master Butler, we will attend you.

BUTLER.
I humbly thank your lordship, I will attend you.