SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT.
By your leave, sir.
FLAVIUS.
What do you ask of me, my friend?
TITUS.
We wait for certain money here, sir.
FLAVIUS.
Ay,
If money were as certain as your waiting,
’Twere sure enough.
Why then preferred you not your sums and bills
When your false masters eat of my lord’s meat?
Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts,
And take down th’ interest into their gluttonous maws.
You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up,
Let me pass quietly.
Believe’t, my lord and I have made an end,
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
LUCIUS.
Ay, but this answer will not serve.
FLAVIUS.
If ’twill not serve, ’tis not so base as you,
For you serve knaves.
[Exit.]
FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT.
How? What does his cashiered worship mutter?
SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT.
No matter what, he’s poor, and that’s revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.
Enter Servilius.