Mer. Ah! that's my wheat! treason, my wheat, my money!

Eliz. Where is the wretch's wheat?

Wal. Below, my lady;
We counted on the charm of your sweet words,
And so did for him what, your sermon ended,
He would have done himself.

Knight. 'Twere rude to doubt it.

Mer. Ye rascal barons!
What! Are we burghers monkeys for your pastime?
We'll clear the odds. [Seizes Walter.]

Wal. Soft, friend--a worm will turn.

Voices below. Throw him down.

Wal. Dost hear that, friend?
Those pups are keen-toothed; they have eat of late
Worse bacon to their bread than thee. Come, come,
Put up thy knife; we'll give thee market-price--
And if thou must have more--why, take it out
In board and lodging in the castle dungeon.

[Walter leads him out; the Mob, etc., disperse.]

Eliz. Now then--there's many a one lies faint at home--