_Get._ Would it would come with thinking, for then o' my conscience, I should be at least a Senator.
_Max._ A Sowter; For that's a place more fitted to thy nature, If there could be such an expectation; Or say, the Devil could perform this wonder; Can such a Rascal as thou art, hope for honour? Such a log-carrying Lowt?
_Get._ Yes, and bear it too, And bear it swimmingly. I am not the first Ass, Sir, Has born good office, and perform'd it reverendly.
_Dio._ Thou being the Son of a Tiler, canst thou hope to be a Senator?
_Get._ Thou being the Son of a Tanner, canst thou hope to be an Emperor?
_Dio._ Thou sayst true, _Geta_, there's a stop indeed; But yet the bold and vertuous--
_Get._ Ye are right, Master, Right as a Gun; For we the vertuous, Though we be Kennel-rakers, Scabs, and Scoundrels, We the discreet and bold; and yet, now I remember it, We Tilers may deserve to be Senators; And there we step before you thick-skin'd Tanners, For we are born three stories high; no base ones, None of your groundlings, master.
_Dio._ I like thee well, Thou hast a good mind, as I have, to this Honour.
_Get._ As good a mind, Sir, of a simple plaisterer-- And when I come to execute my office, Then you shall see.
_Get._ An Officer in fury; An Officer as he ought to be; do you laugh at it? Is a Senator (in hope) worth no more reverence? By these hands I'll clap you by th' heels the first hour of it.
_Max._ O' my Conscience, the fellow believes.
_Dio._ I, do, do, _Geta_, For if I once be Emperour--
_Get._ Then will I (For wise men must be had to prop the Republick) Not bate ye a single ace of a sound Senator.
_Get._ Kill Swine, and sowse 'em, And eat 'em when we have bread.
_Max._ Why didst thou run away When the Boar made toward thee? art thou not valiant?
_Get._ No indeed am I not; and 'tis for mine honour too; I took a Tree, 'tis true, gave way to the Monster; Hark what discretion says, let fury pass; From the tooth of a mad Beast, and the tongue of a Slanderer Preserve thine honour.
_Dio._ He talks like a full Senator: Go, take it up, and carry it in, 'tis a huge one, We never kill'd so large a Swine, so fierce too, I never met with yet.
_Max._ Take heed, it stirs again; How nimbly the Rogue runs up! he climbs like a Squirrel.