Avar. What, ye do but jest!
Ver. The book sayeth: Veritas de terra orta est.
Avar. Happy is he which hath that garden plat, I trow!
Out of which such fair blossoms do spring and grow;
Yet this one thing, I say.
Ver. What?
Avar. Ye are friend to few,
Pressed to open all things, and men's manner to show.
Ver. If ye be true and just, that is your benefit.
Avar. True or untrue, just or unjust, it is your spite;
And glad ye are to take other folks in a trip.
[Yes! ye do it no]w and then, your ownself, on the whip.
Well, ye might be honest of your tongue, if you would.
Ver. If your acts were honest, ye did but as ye should.
Avar. Who chargeth me with the crime of any vice?
Ver. Thou callst thyself Policy, and art Avarice.