, let us pass. We be a-going home after our supper in all humbleness, my lord; for the Archbishop loves humbleness, my lord; and though we be fifty to four, we daren't fight you with our crutches, my lord. There now, if thou hast not laid hands upon me! and my fellows know that I am all one scale like a fish. I pray God I haven't given thee my leprosy, my lord.

[FITZURSE shrinks from him and another presses upon DE BRITO.

DE BRITO.
Away, dog!

4TH BEGGAR. And I was bit by a mad dog o' Friday, an' I be half dog already by this token, that tho' I can drink wine I cannot bide water, my lord; and I want to bite, I want to bite, and they do say the very breath catches.

DE BRITO.
Insolent clown. Shall I smite him with the edge of the sword?

DE MORVILLE. No, nor with the flat of it either. Smite the shepherd and the sheep are scattered. Smite the sheep and the shepherd will excommunicate thee.

DE BRITO.
Yet my fingers itch to beat him into nothing.

5TH BEGGAR.
So do mine, my lord. I was born with it, and sulphur won't bring it
out o' me. But for all that the Archbishop washed my feet o' Tuesday.
He likes it, my lord.

6TH BEGGAR. And see here, my lord, this rag fro' the gangrene i' my leg. It's humbling—it smells o' human natur'. Wilt thou smell it, my lord? for the Archbishop likes the smell on it, my lord; for I be his lord and master i' Christ, my lord.

DE MORVILLE.
Faugh! we shall all be poisoned. Let us go.

[They draw back, BEGGARS following.

7TH BEGGAR.
My lord, I ha' three sisters a-dying at home o' the sweating sickness.
They be dead while I be a-supping.

8TH BEGGAR. And I ha' nine darters i' th