Bradshaw. The one I know not, but he seems a knave

Chiefly for bearing the other company;

For such a slave, so vile a rogue as he,

Lives not again upon the earth.

Black Will is his name. I tell you, Master Greene,

At Boulogne he and I were fellow-soldiers,

Where he played such pranks

As all the camp feared him for his villainy 10

10

I warrant you he bears so bad a mind

That for a crown he’ll murder any man.

Greene. The fitter is he for my purpose, marry!

[28]

Will. How now, fellow Bradshaw? Whither away so early?

Bradshaw. O Will, times are changed: no fellows now,

Though we were once together in the field;

Yet thy friend to do thee any good I can.

Will. Why, Bradshaw, was not thou and I fellow-soldiers

at Boulogne, where I was a corporal, and

thou but a base mercenary groom? No fellows

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