II
Starv. O would the Duke and Dutchess smile,
The court would do the same awhile,
But call us after, low and vile,
And that way make their sport:
Nay, would you still more pastime make,
And at poor we your purses shake,
Whate’er you give, we’ll gladly take,
For that will do at court.
Bot. Well said, my boys, my hearts! Sing but like nightingales thus when you come to your misrepresentation, and we are made for ever, you rogues! so! steal a way now to your homes without inspection; meet me at the Duke’s oak—by moon light—mum’s the word.
All. Mum!
[Exeunt all stealing out.