Gio. Slaves, y' are not worth my anger.
Ful. Go vent your spleen 'mongst satires; pen a
Pamphlet, and call't the "Scourge of Greatness."
Aler. Or "Spain's Ingratitude."
Gio. Ye are not worth my breath,
Else I should curse you; but I must weep,
Not that I part from thee, unthankful Spain,
But my Evadne: well, it must be so:
Heart, keep thy still tough temper, spite of woe.
[Exit.
Mach. My house shall be your prison. Attend 'em, colonel.
[Exeunt Raymond, Philippa, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, Giovanno,[24] &c. Manent Tailors.
Ful. Please you walk.
1st Tai. My servant banish'd?
3d Tai. Famish'd, master? nay, faith, and a tailor come to be famish'd, 'tis a hard world: no bread in this world here, ho, to save the renown'd corpse of a tailor from famishing! 'Tis no matter for drink: give me bread.