That shoot up in a night to place and worship.

CAR. [SEEING MACILENTE.] Let him alone; some stray, some stray.

SOG. Nay, I will examine him before I go, sure.

CAR. The lord of the soil has all wefts and strays here, has he not?

SOG. Yes, sir.

CAR. Faith then I pity the poor fellow, he's fallen into a fool's hands.
[ASIDE.

SOG. Sirrah, who gave you a commission to lie in my lordship?

MAC. Your lordship!

SOG. How! my lordship? do you know me, sir?

MAC. I do know you, sir.

CAR. He answers him like an echo.
[ASIDE.

SOG. Why, Who am I, sir?

MAC. One of those that fortune favours.

CAR. The periphrasis of a fool. I'll observe this better.
[ASIDE.