For, hear ye, sirrah! our great, grand lady mother, Noble Dame Respublica, she and none other-- Of the offals, the refuse, the rags, the parings; The baggage, the trash, the fragments, the sharings; The odd ends, the crumbs, the driblets, the chippings; The patches, the pieces, the broklets, the drippings; The flittance, the scrapings, the wild wai[f]s and strays; The skimmings, the gubbings of booties and preys; The gleanings, the casualties, the blind escheats; The forging of forfeit[s], the scape of extreats; Th' excess, the waste, the spoils, the superfluities; The windfalls, the shreddings, the fleecings, the petty fees; With a thousand things more, which she may right well lack-- Would fill all these same purses that hang at my back. Yea! and ten times as many more bags as these, Which should be but a flea-biting for her to lese; That, if I may have the grace and hap to blind her, I doubt not, a sweet lady I shall find her. To her it were nothing; yet, many a small maketh a great; And all things would help me whatever I may geat: Full little know men the great need that I am in. Do not I spend daily of that that I do win? Then, age cometh on; and what is a little gold To keep a man by drede that is feeble and old? No man, therefore, blame me though I would have more: The world waxeth hard, and store, (they say), is no sore. Now, the chance of thieves, in good hour be it spoken-- Out, alas! I fear I left my coffer open. I am surely undone! alas! where be my kays? It is gone, that I have sweat for all my live-days! Woe worth all whoreson thieves, and such covetous knaves! That, for their winding sheet, would scrape men out of their graves! [_Exeat._ ACTUS PRIMI, SCENA SECUNDA. ADULATION. INSOLENCE. OPPRESSION. _Intrant Canta[n]tes._ _Adulation._ Oh, noble Insolence! if I could sing as well, I would look in heaven among angels to dwell. _Insolence._ Sing! now, do I sing but as other many do? _Adul._ Yes, an angel's voice ye have, to hearken unto. _Insol._ Yea! but what availeth that to high dignity? _Oppression._ By His arms! not a whit, as far as I can see! _Insol._ Or, what helpeth that thing to set a man aloft? _Oppr._ By His wounds! not a straw; so have I told you oft. _Adul._ No! but ye are one of such goodly personage, Of such wit and beauty, and of sage parentage, So excellent in all points of every art-- _Insol._ Indeed, God and nature in me have done their part-- _Adul._ That, if ye will put yourself forward to the most, Ye may, throughout the whole land, rule all the roste-- How say you, Oppression? is it not even so?