Ye say true, A very honest mind, and make it rich too; Rich, wondrous rich, but where shall I raise these moneys, About your house? I see no such great promises; Where shall I find these sums?
_Die_.
Even where you please, Sir, You are wise and provident, and know business, Ev'n raise 'em where you shall think good, I am reasonable.
_Bar_.
Think good? will that raise thousands?
What do you make me?
_Die_.
You have sworn to see it done, that's all my comfort.
_Bar_.
Where I please? this is pack'd sure to disgrace me.
_Die_.
Ye are just, and honest, and I know you will do it, Ev'n where you please, for you know where the wealth is.
_Bar_.
I am abused, betrayed, I am laugh'd at, scorn'd, Baffl'd, and boared, it seems.
_Ars_.
No, no, ye are fooled.
_Lop_.
Most finely fooled, and handsomely, and neatly, Such cunning Masters must be fool'd sometimes, Sir, And have their Worships noses wiped, 'tis healthful, We are but quit: you fool us of our moneys In every Cause, in every Quiddit wipe us.
_Die_.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, some more drink, for my heart, Gentlemen.
This merry Lawyer--ha, ha, ha, ha, this Scholar-- I think this fit will cure me: this Executor-- I shall laugh out my Lungs.
_Bar_.
This is derision above sufferance, villany Plotted and set against me.
_Die_.
Faith 'tis Knavery, In troth I must confess, thou art fool'd indeed, Lawyer.
_Mil_.
Did you think, had this man been rich--
_Bar_.
'Tis well, Sir.
_Mil_.
He would have chosen such a Wolf, a Canker, A Maggot-pate, to be his whole Executor?
_Lop_.
A Lawyer, that entangles all mens honesties, And lives like a Spider in a Cobweb lurking, And catching at all Flies, that pass his pit-falls?
Puts powder to all States, to make 'em caper?
Would he trust you? Do you deserve?
_Die_.
I find, Gentlemen, This Cataplasm of a well cozen'd Lawyer Laid to my stomach, lenifies my Feaver, Methinks I could eat now, and walk a little.
_Bar_.
I am asham'd to feel how flat I am cheated, How grossly, and maliciously made a May-game, A damned trick; my Wife, my Wife, some Rascal: My Credit, and my Wife, some lustful Villain, Some Bawd, some Rogue.
_Ars_.
Some crafty Fool has found ye: This 'tis, Sir, to teach ye to be too busie, To covet all the gains, and all the rumours, To have a stirring Oare in all mens actions.
_Lop_.
We did this, but to vex your fine officiousness.
_Bar_.
Good yield ye, and good thank ye: I am fooled, Gentlemen; The Lawyer is an Ass, I do confess it, A weak dull shallow Ass: good even to your Worships: Vicar, remember Vicar, Rascal, remember, Thou notable rich Rascal.
_Die_.
I do remember, Sir, 'Pray ye stay a little, I have ev'n two Legacies To make your mouth up, Sir.
_Bar_.
Remember Varlets, Quake and remember, Rogues; I have brine for your Buttocks.
[_Exit_.
_Lop_.
Oh how he frets, and fumes now like a Dunghil!