Cris. 'Tis true.

Hor. I hope the hour of my release be come: he will, upon this
consideration, discharge me, sure.

Cris. Troth, I am doubtful what I may best do, whether to leave
thee or my affairs, Horace.

Hor. O Jupiter! me, sir, me, by any means; I beseech you, me, sir.

Cris. No, faith, I'll venture those now; thou shalt see I love
thee--some, Horace.

Hor. Nay, then I am desperate: I follow you, sir. 'Tis hard
contending with a man that overcomes thus.

Cris. And how deals Mecaenas with thee? liberally, ha? is he open
handed? bountiful?

Hor. He's still himself, sir.

Cris. Troth, Horace, thou art exceeding happy in thy friends and
acquaintance; they are all most choice spirits, and of the first
rank of Romans: I do not know that poet, I protest, has used his
fortune more prosperously than thou hast. If thou wouldst bring me
known to Mecaenas, I should second thy desert well; thou shouldst
find a good sure assistant of me, one that would speak all good of
thee in thy absence, and be content with the next place, not
envying thy reputation with thy patron. Let me not live, but I