Avar. Bones, knave! wilt thou have it ere it can be spoken?
Oppr. For the passion of God! tell it us with all speed!
Avar. By the cross, not a word! here is haste made indeed.
Insol. Yes, good, sweet Avarice! dispatch, and tell at once!
Avar. Nay then, cut my throat! ye are fellows for the nonce—
Will ye have a matter before it can be told?
If ye will have me tell it, ye shall your tongues hold.
Whist! silence! not a word! Mum! let your clatter cease!
Are ye with child to hear, and cannot hold your peace?
So sir! now Respublica, the lady of estate,
Ye know, now lately, is left almost desolate.
Her wealth is decayed; her comfort clean ago;
And she at her wit's end what for to say or do.
Fain would she have succour, and easement of her grief;
And highly advance them that would promise relief;
Such as would warrant her spirits to revive
Might mount to high estate, and be most sure to thrive.
Insol. So!
Adul. Well said!
Oppr. Ha!
Avar. What is this hum, ha, hum?
Insol. On forth!