Bout. I think no less. One word more in private. [Walk aside.
Con. Good Master Dash, shall I put you now a case?
Dash. Speak on, good master page.
Con. Then thus it is:
Suppose I am a page, he is my master,
My master goes to bed, and cannot tell
What money's in his hose; I, ere next day,
Have filch'd out some, what action lies for this?
Dash. An action, boy, call'd firking the posteriors.
With us your action seldom comes in question;
For that 'tis known that most of your gallants
Are seldom so well-stor'd, that they forget
What money's in their hose; but if they have,
There is no other help than swear the page,
And put him to his oath.
Con. Then, firk o' law,[350]
Dost think, he that has conscience to steal,
Has not a conscience likewise to deny?
Then hang him up, i' faith?
[Boutcher and Throat come forward again.
Bout. I must meet him.
Throat. Commend me to them; come, when they will,
My doors stand open, and all within is theirs;
And though Ram-Alley stinks with cooks and ale,
Yet say there's many a worthy lawyer's chamber,
'Buts upon Ram-Alley. I have still an open throat,
If aught I have which may procure his good,
Bid him command—ay, though it be my blood. [Exeunt.