Coo. Bring them, they shall not starve here, I'le send 'em victuals
Shall work you a good turn, though't be ten days hence, Sir.
Lat. God a mercy noble Master.
Coo. Nay, I'le do't.
Yeo. And wine they shall not want, let 'em drink like Ducks.
Lat. What misery it is that minds so royal,
And such most honest bounties, as yours are,
Should be confin'd thus to uncertainties?
But. I, were the State once setled, then we had places.
Yeo. Then we could shew our selves, and help our friends, Sir.
Coo. I, then there were some savour in't, where now
We live between two stools, every hour ready
To tumble on our noses; and for ought we know yet,
For all this Supper, ready to fast the next day.
Lat. I would fain speak unto you out of pitie,
Out of the love I bear you, out of honesty,
For your own goods; nay, for the general blessing.
Coo. And we would as fain hear you, pray go forward.