From forth a cannon’s mouth.
Ap. Such drugs I have, I must of force confesse,
But yet the law is death to those that sell them.
Rom. Art though so bare and full of poverty,
And dost thou fear to violate the law?
The law is not thy friend nor the law’s friend,
And therefore make no conscience of the law.
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery
And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks.
Ap. My poverty but not my will consents.