Sir Gr. I think a man were as good meet with a reasonable Thief, as an unreasonable Begger sometimes, I could find in my heart to beg half mine back agen, can you change my piece my friends?
Pris. Tempora mutantur, & nos mutamur in illis.
Sir Gr. My Gold is turn'd into Latine.
Enter Witty-pate.
Look you good fellows, here's one round
Shilling more that lay conceal'd.
Old K. Sir, away, we shall be drawn farther into damage else.
Sir Gr. A pox of the Fool, he live by his wits? if his wits leave him any money, but what he begs or steals very shortly, I'll be hang'd for him. [Exeunt the two Knights.
Ruin. This breakfast parcel was well fetcht off i'faith.
Witty. Tush, a by-blow for mirth, we must have better purchase, we want a fourth for another project that I have ripen'd.