Alb. Amongst ourselves!
Falcons, that tyrannise o'er weaker fowl,
Hold peace with their own feathers.
Har. But when they counter
Upon one quarry,[348] break that league, as we do.
Alb. At least restore the ten pound in gold I lent you.
Ron. "'Twas lent in an ill second, worser third,
And luckless fourth:" 'tis lost, Albumazar.
Fur. Saturn was in ascension, Mercury
Was then combust, when you delivered it.
'Twill never be restor'd.
Ron. "Hali, Abenezra,
Hiarcha, Brachman, Budda Babylonicus,"
And all the Chaldees and the Cabalists,
Affirm that sad aspect threats loss of debts.
Har. Frame by your azimuth Almicantarath,
An engine like a mace, whose quality
Of strange retractive virtue may recall
Desperate debts, and with that undo serjeants.
Alb. Was ever man thus baited by's own whelps?
Give me a slender portion, for a stock
To begin trade again.
Ron. 'Tis an ill course,
And full of fears. This treasure hath enrich'd us,
And given us means to purchase and live quiet
Of th' fruit of dangers past. When I us'd robbing,
All blocks before me look'd like constables,
And posts appear'd in shape of gallowses;
Therefore, good tutor, take your pupil's counsel:
'Tis better beg than steal; live in poor clothes
Than hang in satin.