MORE.
Gone, sir! what, here! how can that be?

LORD MAYOR.
Against all reason, sitting on the bench.

SURESBY.
Lifter, I talked with you; you have not lifted me? ha!

LIFTER.
Suspect ye me, sir? Oh, what a world is this!

MORE.
But hear ye, master Suresby; are ye sure
Ye had a purse about ye?

SURESBY.
Sure, Master Shrieve! as sure as you are there,
And in it seven pounds, odd money, on my faith.

MORE.
Seven pounds, odd money! what, were you so mad,
Being a wise man and a magistrate,
To trust your purse with such a liberal sum?
Seven pounds, odd money! fore God, it is a shame,
With such a sum to tempt necessity:
I promise ye, a man that goes abroad
With an intent of truth, meeting such a booty,
May be wrought to that he never thought.
What makes so many pilferers and felons,