_Avar._ Now, Master Insolence! to your ghostly purpose!
_Insol._ We accorded a matter to you to disclose.
_Avar._ I understand all your agreement and accord; For, I laid in your bosoms when ye spake the word; And I like well the advice of Oppression, And eke of Flattery, for your progression.
_Insol._ If there were matter whereon to work, I care not.
_Avar._ Ye shall have matter enough; be doing, spare not!
_Insol._ What! to come to honour and wealth for us all three?
_Avar._ Ah then! ye could be content to leave out me!
_Insol._ No! for I know ye can, for yourself well provide.
_Avar._ Yea! that I can; and for twenty hundred beside.
_Adul._ Oh, would Christ, good founder! ye would that thing open.
_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.
_Avar._ Who haiken, tuffa, hum--what say ye?
_Avar._ That, that, that! that, that, that! Sir, I intend Dame Respublica t'assail; And, so to creep in to be of her counsel; I hope well to bring her in such a paradise That herself shall sue me to have my service; Then shall I have time and power to bring in you three.
_Oppr._ Do this out of hand, founder! and first, speak for me; Bring me in credit that my hands be in the pie: An I get not elbow room among them, let me lie.
_Avar._ Nay! see an Oppression, this eager elf, Be not since more covetous than covetous self! Soft! be not so hasty, I pray you, Sir! soft awhile! You will over the hedge ere ye come at the stile.
