_Avar._ Then sing we _On bowne viage!_ and _Saint George thee borrow!_
[_Cantent: "Bring ye to me and I to ye," etc. et sic exeant._
_Resp._ The good hope, that my masters have put me in, To recover ruin that in me doth begin, Hath so recomforted my spirits and mine heart, That I feel much easement of my great grief and smart, Now, I do less wonder that lost men, life to save, Far from land do labour, against the roaring wave; For hope, I see, hath mighty operation Against the mortal sting of drooping desperation. Now, if I might but hear what Policy hath wrought, Or some one good thing that my friends to pass had brought, I would put no doubts but all thing should soon be well-- Lo! where cometh Honesty: he will the truth tell.
_Adul._ Three hundred pound by year, and a good manor place-- Well, it is metely well, in so short time and space! More will come right shortly; this gear doth gaily walk. Bones! here is Respublica, what use I such ta[l]ke? I seek lady Respublica!
_Resp._ Lo, I am here! And welcome, Honesty! what do my friends most dear?
_Adul._ Certes, Madame! we rest nor day, nor night, nor hour, [To] practise and travail for your wealth and honour. But, O Lord! what a prudent man is Policy! What a deep head he hath to devise and to spy!
_Adul._ Also Reformation-- How earnest he is in his operation!
_Adul._ Now, then, Authority, The stoutest in his office that ever I did see-- I will no farther praise them, Madame! for, doubtless, They far surmount all praise that my tongue can express: Ye may bless the time ye met with such as they be; And I do my poor part.
_Resp._ I doubt not, Honesty! And condign reward shall ye all have for your pain.
_Adul._ I have scarce an house wherein myself to maintain.
_Adul._ I do not crave nor care; We shall take but scraps and refuse, that ye may spare; We will not encroach the people's commodity; We shall take only that may come with honesty.
_Resp._ Christ's blessing have ye! but, lo! yonder cometh People.
_Adul._ I had thought as soon to have met here Paul's steeple!
_People._ Where's Rice-Puddingcake? I pray God she be in heal.
_People._ Mass! you liest valeslie in your heart! She is this way, che wa'r't--a false harlot you art!
_People._ Mass! ere ich go, chill her zee, For this way she came.