ACT V., SCENE I.
Albumazar, Ronca, Furbo, Harpax.
Alb. How? not a single share of this great prize,
That have deserv'd the whole? was't not my plot
And pains, and you mere instruments and porters?
Shall I have nothing?
Ron. No, not a silver spoon.
Fur. Nor cover of a trencher-salt.[346]
Har. Nor table-napkin.
Alb. Friends, we have kept an honest truth and faith
Long time amongst us: break not the sacred league,
By raising civil theft: turn not your fury
'Gainst your own bowels. Rob your careful master!
Are you not asham'd?
Ron. 'Tis our profession,
As yours astrology. "And in the days of old,
Good morrow, thief, as welcome was receiv'd,
As now Your worship." 'Tis your own instruction.[347]