go down as if
the sting of the bee were in them. Oh, they have wrought their purpose
cunningly, as if they would not seem to do it of malice! In this a
politician imitates the devil, as the devil imitates a canon;
wheresoever he comes to do mischief, he comes with his backside towards
you.

Enter French Ambassador

Fr. Ambass. The proofs are evident.

Flam. Proof! 'twas corruption. O gold, what a god art thou! and O man,
what a devil art thou to be tempted by that cursed mineral! Your
diversivolent lawyer, mark him! knaves turn informers, as maggots turn
to flies, you may catch gudgeons with either. A cardinal! I would he
would hear me: there 's nothing so holy but money will corrupt and
putrity it, like victual under the line. [Enter English Ambassador.]
You are happy in England, my lord; here they sell justice with those
weights they press men to death with. O horrible salary!

Eng. Ambass. Fie, fie, Flamineo.

Flam. Bells ne'er ring well, till they are at their full pitch; and I
hope yon cardinal shall never have the grace to pray well, till he come
to the scaffold. If they were racked now to know the confederacy: but
your noblemen are privileged from the rack; and well may, for a little
thing would pull some of them a-pieces afore they came to their
arraignment. Religion, oh, how it is commeddled with policy! The
first blood shed in the world happened about religion. Would I were a
Jew!

Marc. Oh, there are too many!

Flam. You are deceived; there are not Jews enough, priests enough, nor
gentlemen enough.

Marc. How?

Flam. I 'll prove it; for if there were Jews enough, so many Christians
would not turn usurers; if priests enough, one should not have six
benefices; and if gentlemen enough, so many early mushrooms, whose best
growth sprang from a live by begging: be thou one of them practise the
art of Wolner in England, to swallow all 's given thee: and yet let one
purgation make thee as hungry again as fellows that work in a saw-pit.
I 'll go hear the screech-owl. [Exit.

Lodo. This was Brachiano's pander; and 'tis strange
That in such open, and apparent guilt
Of his adulterous sister, he dare utter
So scandalous a passion. I must wind him.

Re-enter Flamineo.

Flam. How dares this banish'd count return to Rome,
His pardon not yet purchas'd! I have