A Ruffian.--An alms? Ha! ha! ha! By my soul that is whimsical!--
Alms from us, indeed!--Oh, by all means! No doubt, you shall have
alms in plenty.

Abellino.--Or else give me fifty sequins, and I'll bind myself to
your service till I shall have worked out my debt.

A Ruffian.--Aye? and pray, then, who may you be?

Abellino.--A starving wretch, the Republic holds none more
miserable. Such am I at present; but hereafter--I have powers,
knaves. This arm could pierce a heart, though guarded by three
breastplates; this eye, though surrounded by Egyptian darkness,
could still see to stab sure.

A Ruffian.--Why, then, did you strike me down, even now?

Abellino.--In the hope of being paid for it; but though I saved his
life, the scoundrel gave me not a single ducat.

A Ruffian.--No? So much the better. But hark ye, comrade, are you
sincere?

Abellino.--Despair never lies.

A Ruffian.--Slave, shouldst thou be a traitor -

Abellino.--My heart would be within reach of your hands, and your
daggers would be as sharp as now.