Of judgment so great,
A judge there did lose a fair pouch of velvéte.
Cokes. I’faith?
Night. O Lord for thy mercy, how wicked or worse,
Are those that so venture their necks for a purse!
Youth, youth, thou had’st better been starv’d by thy nurse,
Than lived to be hanged for cutting a purse.
Cokes. [sings after him.] Youth, youth, etc.—Pray thee, stay a little, friend. Yet o’ thy conscience, Numps, speak, is there any harm in this?
Waspe. To tell you true, ’tis too good for you, less you had grace to follow it.