TheStationersRegister

The Works of Christopher Marlowe

I beseech your worship, accept of these forty

dollars.

I beseech you, sir, accept of this; I am a very poor

man, and have lost very much of late by horse flesh, and this

bargain will set me up again.

How, sir, not into the water? Why will he not drink

of all waters?

I warrant you, sir, O joyful day, now am I a

made man forever. Exit.

O, what a cozening Doctor was this? I, riding my

horse into the water, thinking some hidden mystery had been

in the horse, I had nothing under me but a little straw, and

had much ado to escape drowning. Well, I'll go rouse him,

and make him give me my forty dollars again. Ho, sirrah

Doctor, you cozening scab. Master Doctor, awake and rise

and give me my money again, for your horse is turned to a

bottle of hay, Master Doctor. He pulls off his leg.

Alas, I am undone; what shall I do? I have pulled off his leg.

Murder or not murder, now he has but one leg.

I'll out-run him, and cast this leg into some ditch or other.