HYPOCRISY.
Thou art nothing so ready to do any good,
As thou art to shed poor innocents' blood.

AVARICE.
Nay, Tyranny, suffer this rascal to prate,

[HYP. [_aside_.] On your face, sir.]

Till some man come by, and then he is gone.
Then wilt thou repent it, when it is too late:
Despatch him, therefore, while we are alone.

HYPOCRISY.
Well may the covetous be likened to a drone,
Which of the bee's labours will spoil and waste make,
And yet to get honey no labour will take.
The covetous likewise from poor men extort,
Their gains to increase they only do seek;
And so they may have it, of them a great sort
What means they use for it they care not a leek:
Yet will these misers scarce once a week
Have one good meal at their own table:
So by Avarice to help themselves they are unable.
Avarice to a fire may well compared be,
To the which the more you add, the more still it crave:
So likewise the covetous mind we do see,
Though riches abound, do wish still more to have
And to be short, your reverences to save,
To a filthy swine such misers are comparable,