TYRANNY.
Wilt thou go show his house, where he dwell?

CACON.
Yai, or els ay wawd may sawl war in hell.
Te de him a pleasure ay wawd gang a whole year,
Gif it war but te make him a fadock[46] te bear.

TYRANNY.
Go with us, Avarice, and bear us company.

AVARICE.
Nay, if you go hence, I will not here tarry.

HYPOCRISY.
Away, sirs: in your business in a corner do not lurk,
That my Lord Legate, when he comes, may have work.

TYRANNY.
Come on: let us go together, Sir John.

CACON.
Ay sall follow after. God boy, you good gentleman.

HYPOCRISY [_Aside_.]
Farewell three false knaves as between this and London!

TYRANNY.
What say'st thou?