Chapter: ACT II. Scene I.
Rochester. An inn yard.

Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.

  1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd.
    Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not
    pack'd.- What, ostler!
  Ost. [within] Anon, anon.
  1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in
the
    point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.

                        Enter another Carrier.

  2. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is
the
    next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned
upside
    down since Robin Ostler died.
  1. Car. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose.
It
    was the death of him.
  2. Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London
road
    for fleas. I am stung like a tench.
  1. Car. Like a tench I By the mass, there is ne'er a king
christen
    could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.
  2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we
leak in
    your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.
  1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang'd! come away!
  2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be
    delivered as far as Charing Cross.
  1. Car. God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite
starved.
    What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy
    head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to
    break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be
hang'd!
    Hast no faith in thee?

                           Enter Gadshill.

  Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?
  1. Car. I think it be two o'clock.
  Gads. I prithee lend me this lantern to see my gelding in the
    stable.
  1. Car. Nay, by God, soft! I know a trick worth two of that,
    i' faith.
  Gads. I pray thee lend me thine.
  2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he?
Marry,
    I'll see thee hang'd first!
  Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?
  2. Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.
    Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen. They will
    along with company, for they have great charge.
                                              Exeunt [Carriers].
  Gads. What, ho! chamberlain!

                            Enter Chamberlain.

  Cham. At hand, quoth pickpurse.
  Gads. That's even as fair as- 'at hand, quoth the chamberlain';
for
    thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving
direction
    doth from labouring: thou layest the plot how.
  Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I
told
    you yesternight. There's a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath
    brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him
tell it
    to one of his company last night at supper- a kind of
auditor;
    one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They
are
    up already and call for eggs and butter. They will away
    presently.
  Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks,
I'll
    give thee this neck.
  Cham. No, I'll none of it. I pray thee keep that for the
hangman;
    for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man
of
    falsehood may.
  Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I'll
make
    a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with
me,
    and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut! there are other
    Troyans that thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake
are
    content to do the profession some grace; that would (if
matters
    should be look'd into) for their own credit sake make all
whole.
    I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny
    strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms;
but
    with nobility, and tranquillity, burgomasters and great
oneyers,
    such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak,
and
    speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet,
    zounds, I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the

    commonwealth, or rather, not pray to her, but prey on her,
for
    they ride up and down on her and make her their boots.
  Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out
water
    in foul way?
  Gads. She will, she will! Justice hath liquor'd her. We steal
as in
    a castle, cocksure. We have the receipt of fernseed, we walk
    invisible.
  Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the
night
    than to fernseed for your walking invisible.
  Gads. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our
purchase, as
    I and a true man.
  Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.
  Gads. Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler
    bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy
knave.
                                                         Exeunt.

 Two carriers complain about the accommodations of the inn at Rochester as they prepare to drive their pack horses to the market in London. Gadshill, the professional thief to whom Poins had made reference, enters and asks to borrow their lantern, but the wary carriers refuse to lend it and leave. At Gadshill's call, the chamberlain, an informer, appears. He confirms what he told Gadshill earlier: A franklin with three hundred marks in gold will be among the travelers soon to depart from the inn. Unlike the chamberlain, Gadshill has no fear of the hangman because he is joined in the robbery by Sir John and, to paraphrase his own words, persons of higher rank.

