The Devil sent it post, to pepper us,
From Nova Hispania, we shall hang at home now.
Ars.
I see ye are penitent, and I have compassion:
Ye are secure both; do but what we charge ye,
Ye shall have more gold too, and he shall give it,
Yet ne're indanger ye.
Lop.
Command us, Master,
Command us presently, and see how nimbly—