Money is the crust he leaps at; cry, "a duck! a duck!" and he plunges
not so eagerly as at this. The dog's chaps water to fetch nothing else;
he hath his name for the same quality. For sergeant is _quasi See
argent_, look you, rogue, here is money. He goes muffled like a thief,
and carries still the marks of one; for he steals upon man cowardly,
plucks him by the throat, makes him stand, and fleeces him. In this they
differ, the thief is more valiant and more honest. His walks in term
times are up Fleet Street, at the end of the term up Holborn, and so to
Tyburn; the gallows are his purlieus, in which the hangman and he are
quarter rangers--the one turns off, and the other cuts down. All the
vacation he lies imbogued behind the lattice of some blind drunken,
bawdy ale-house, and if he spy his prey, out he leaps like a freebooter,
and rifles, or like a ban-dog worries. No officer to the city keeps his
oath so uprightly; he never is forsworn, for he swears to be true varlet
to the city, and he continues so to his dying day. Mace, which is so
comfortable to the stomach in all kind of meats, turns in his hand to
mortal poison. This raven pecks not out men's eyes as others do; all his
spite is at their shoulders, and you were better to have the nightmare
ride you than this incubus. When any of the furies of hell die, this
Cacodeemon hath the reversion of his place. The city is (by the custom)
to feed him with good meat, as they send dead horses to their hounds,
only to keep them both in good heart, for not only those curs at the
doghouse, but these within the walls, are to serve in their paces in
their several huntings.
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