Second Off. Joggled down
At last, poor man!
First Off. When all the ghosts he made
Come back to weep his fall, I'll swell the flood
With half a tear, no more.
Second Off. Then you're for Vardas?
First Off. By glory, no! He'll open Goldusan
To every thief that knocks.
Second Off. Trust Hudibrand
To guard the door. Till he has plucked the goose,—
Then they may shave it for their part.
First Off. So, friend?
Second Off. Phut! Goldusan's his box of snuff—held so—
And as he pleases, tchew!—'tis empty.
First Off. Come,
I'll walk your way. [They move, right]
What of this truce? Goes 't deep?
Second Off. As flattery may plough. It is our croon
Of compliment to our new-seated king.
First Off. Nay, president. We're a republic now.