Has Fortune turned on me, like the whore she is? I've had news that my Nell died of the pox in a hospice. There went my last refuge. I grow old, and all dignity has been thrashed out of me. Well, I'll turn pimp and do some occasional pickpocketing. I'll steal away to England, and I'll steal some more when I get there. I'll bandage up these wounds and swear I got them in the French wars.