_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_.
And the Advocate, that caus'd us to be summon'd.
_Asc_.
My Lord is mov'd, I see it in his looks, And that man, in the Gown, in my opinion Looks like a proguing Knave.
_Jac_.
Peace, give them leave.
_Jam_.
Serve me with Process?
_Bar_.
My Lord, you are not lawless.
_Jam_.