Is not this true? do you shrink now good-man Curat? Do I not touch ye? _Lop_. We have a hundred Duckets Yet left, we do beseech ye, Sir-- _Mil_. You'll hang both. _Lop_. One may suffice. _Die_. I will not hang alone, Master, I had the least part, you shall hang the highest. Plague o' this _Tiveria_, and the Letter, The Devil sent it post, to pepper us, From _Nova Hispania_, we shall hang at home now. _Ars_. I see ye are penitent, and I have compassion: Ye are secure both; do but what we charge ye, Ye shall have more gold too, and he shall give it, Yet ne're indanger ye. _Lop_. Command us, Master, Command us presently, and see how nimbly-- _Die_. And if we do not handsomely endeavour-- _Ars_. Go home, and till ye hear more, keep private, Till we appear again, no words, Vicar, There's something added. _Mil_. For you too. _Lop_. We are ready. _Mil_. Go and expect us hourly, if ye falter, Though ye had twenty lives-- _Die_. We are fit to lose 'em. _Lop_. 'Tis most expedient that we should hang both. _Die_. If we be hang'd, we cannot blame our fortune. _Mil_. Farewel, and be your own friends. _Lop_. We expect ye.-- [_Exeunt_. SCENA III. _Enter_ Octavio, Jacintha, _and_ Ascanio. _Octa_. We cited to the Court! {_A Bar, Table-book, 2 Chairs, and Paper, standish set out. _Jac_. It is my wonder. _Octa_. But not our fear, _Jacintha_; wealthy men, That have Estates to lose; whose conscious thoughts Are full of inward guilt, may shake with horrour To have their Actions sifted, or appear Before the Judge. But we that know our selves As innocent, as poor, that have no Fleece On which the Talons of the griping Law Can take sure hold, may smile with scorn on all That can be urg'd against us. _Jac_. I am confident There is no man so covetous, that desires To ravish our wants from us, and less hope There can be so much Justice left on earth, (T[h]ough sued, and call'd upon) to ease us of The burthen of our wrongs. _Octa_. What thinks _Ascanio_? Should we be call'd in question, or accus'd Unjustly, what would you do to redeem us From tyrannous oppression? _Asc_. I could pray To him that ever has an open ear, To hear the innocent, and right their wrongs; Nay, by my troth, I think I could out-plead An Advocate, and sweat as much as he Do's for a double Fee, ere you should suffer In an honest cause. _Enter_ Jamie _and_ Bartolus. _Octa_. Happy simplicitie! _Jac_. My dearest and my best one, _Don Jamie_. _Octa_.