Scene IV An Anteroom in Collatine’s House
Enter a Serving-man.
Serving-man.
What’s o’clock, trow? my lord bade me be early ready with my gelding, for he would ride betimes in the morning: now had I rather be up an hour before my time than a minute after, for my lord will be so infinitely angry if I but oversleep myself a moment that I had better be out of my life than in his displeasure: but soft, some of my Lord Collatine’s men lie in the next chamber; I care not if I call them up, for it grows towards day. What, Pompey, Pompey!
Enter Clown.
Clown.
Who is that calls?
Serving-man.
’Tis I.
Clown.
Who’s that, my Lord Sextus his man?—what a pox make you up before day?
Serving-man.
I would have the key of the gate to come at my lord’s horse in the stable.
Clown.
I would my Lord Sextus and you were both in the hay-loft, for Pompey can take none of his natural rest among you; here’s e’en “Ostler, rise, and give my horse another peck of hay.”
Serving-man.
Nay, good Pompey, help me to the key of the stable.
Clown.
Well, Pompey was born to do Rome good in being so kind to the young prince’s gelding, but if for my kindness in giving him pease and oats he should kick me, I should scarce say “God-a-mercy, horse.” But come, I’ll go with thee to the stable.
[Exeunt.