_Cl. Col._ Ye, mary, somtyme in a messe of vergesse, As in a tryfyll or in a thynge of nought, 1780 As gyuynge a thynge that ye neuer bought: It is the gyse nowe, I say, ouer all; Largesse in wordes, for rewardes are but small: To make fayre promyse, what are ye the worse? Let me haue the rule of your purse. _Magn._ I haue taken it to Largesse and Lyberte. _Cl. Col._ Than is it done as it sholde be: But vse your largesse by the aduyse of me, And I shall waraunt you welth and lyberte. _Magn._ Say on; me thynke your reasons be profounde. 1790 _Cl. Col._ Syr, of my counsayle this shall be the grounde, To chose out ii. iii. of suche as you loue best, And let all your fansyes vpon them rest; Spare for no cost to gyue them pounde and peny, Better to make iii. ryche than for to make many; Gyue them more than ynoughe and let them not lacke, And as for all other let them trusse and packe; Plucke from an hundred, and gyue it to thre, Let neyther patent scape them nor fee; And where soeuer you wyll fall to a rekenynge, 1800 Those thre wyll be redy euen at your bekenynge, For then[844] shall you haue at lyberte to lowte; Let them haue all, and the other go without: Thus ioy without mesure you shall haue. _Magn._ Thou sayst truthe, by the harte that God me gaue! For, as thou sayst, ryght so shall it be: And here I make thé vpon Lyberte To be superuysour, and on Largesse also, For as thou wylte, so shall the game go; For in Pleasure, and Surueyaunce, and also in thé, 1810 I haue set my hole felycyte, And suche as you wyll shall lacke no promocyon. _Cl. Col._ Syr, syth that in me ye haue suche deuocyon, Commyttynge to me and to my felowes twayne Your welthe and felycyte, I trust we shall optayne To do you seruyce after your appetyte. _Magn._ In faythe, and your seruyce ryght well shall I acquyte; And therfore hye you hens, and take this ouersyght. _Cl. Col._ Nowe, Jesu preserue you, syr, prynce most of myght! _Here goth CLOKED COLUSYON awaye, and leueth MAGNYFYCENCE alone in the place._ _Magn._ Thus, I say, I am enuyronned with solace; 1820 I drede no dyntes of fatall desteny. Well were that lady myght stande in my grace, Me to enbrace and loue moost specyally: A Lorde, so I wolde halse her hartely, So I wolde clepe her, so I wolde kys her swete! _Here cometh in FOLY._ _Fol._ Mary, Cryst graunt ye catche no colde on your fete! _Magn._ Who is this? _Fol._ Consayte, syr, your owne man. _Magn._ What tydynges with you, syr? I befole thy brayne pan.