MOS: Courteous sir,
Scorn not my poverty.

BON: Not I, by heaven;
But thou shalt give me leave to hate thy baseness.

MOS: Baseness!

BON: Ay; answer me, is not thy sloth
Sufficient argument? thy flattery?
Thy means of feeding?

MOS: Heaven be good to me!
These imputations are too common, sir,
And easily stuck on virtue when she's poor.
You are unequal to me, and however,
Your sentence may be righteous, yet you are not
That, ere you know me, thus proceed in censure:
St. Mark bear witness 'gainst you, 'tis inhuman.
[WEEPS.]

BON [ASIDE.]: What! does he weep? the sign is soft and good;
I do repent me that I was so harsh.

MOS: 'Tis true, that, sway'd by strong necessity,
I am enforced to eat my careful bread
With too much obsequy; 'tis true, beside,
That I am fain to spin mine own poor raiment
Out of my mere observance, being not born