[John and Hugo have brought the prince - thinking he's Tom - to help them steal from the inn]John Canty: Now, remember: if ya don't do like you've been told, we'll put climes on ya! Twenty of 'em! Ya know what climes are? [the prince shakes his head, 'no'] Tell him, Hugo.Hugo: They're little bandages, with a bit o' paste on 'em, made o' soap and quicklime and rust off old iron. And when ya takes 'em off there's the nastiest looking sore that ever made a citizen sick. Sores that don't get well, but spread like a disease.Prince Edward Tudor: No... no... I'll steal.John Canty: Let's get at it then.
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