what-sha-call-him doublet; he brought mine uncle a letter
even now?

MUS. Yes, sir, what of him?

STEP. Where is he, canst thou tell?

MUS. Why, he is gone.

STEP. Gone? which way? when went he? how long since?

MUS. It's almost half an hour ago since he rode hence.

STEP. Whoreson scanderbag rogue; oh that I had a horse; by God's
lid, I'd fetch him back again, with heave and ho.

MUS. Why, you may have my master's bay gelding, an you will.

STEP. But I have no boots, that's the spite on it.

MUS. Then it's no boot to follow him. Let him go and hang, sir.

STEP. Ay, by my troth; Musco, I pray thee help to truss me a
little; nothing angers me, but I have waited such a while for him
all unlac'd and untrussed yonder; and now to see he is gone the
other way.

MUS. Nay, I pray you stand still, sir.

STEP. I will, I will: oh, how it vexes me.