 | Beggars Bush |  |
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Florez.Flo.
No winde blow faire yet? no returne of moneys?
Letters? nor any thing, to hold my hopes up?
Why then 'tis destin'd, that I fall, fall miserably,
My credite I was built on, sinking with me.
Thou boystrous North-wind, blowing my mis-fortunes,
And frosting all my hopes to cakes of coldnesse,
Yet stay thy fury: give the gentle South
Yet leave to court those sailes that bring me safety,
And you auspicious fires, bright twins in heaven
Daunce on the shrowds: he blows still, stubbornly,
And on his boystrous racke rides my sad ruine;
There is no help, there can be now no comfort,
To morrow with the Sun-set sets my credite.
Oh misery! thou curse of man, thou plague,
In the midst all our strength thou strik'st us;
My vertuous Love is toss'd too: all, what I have been,
No more hereafter to be seen then shadow;
To prison now? well, yet ther's this hope left me,
I may sinke fairely under this dayes venture
And so to morrow's cross'd, and all those curses:
Yet manly I'le invite my fate, base fortune
Shall never say, she has cut my throate in feare.
This is the place his challenge call'd me too,
And was a happy one at this time for me,
For let me fall before my foe i'the field,
And not at Bar, before my Creditors,
Ha's kept his word: now Sir, your swords tongue only
Loud as you dare, all other language—
Enter Hemskirke.
Hem.
Well Sir,
You shall not be long troubled: draw.
Flo.
'Tis done Sir,
And now have at ye.
Hem.
Now.
Enter Boores.
Flo.
Betray'd to Villains?
Slaves ye shall buy me bravely,
And thou base coward.
Enter Gerrard and Beggars.
Ger.
Now upon 'em bravely,
Conjure 'em soundly boyes.
Boores.
Hold, hold.
Ger.
Lay on still,
Down with that Gentleman rogue, swinge him to stirrup:
Retire Sir, and take breath: follow and take him,
Take all, 'tis lawfell prize.
Boores.
We yield.
Ger.
Downe with 'em
Into the wood, and rifle 'em, tew 'em, swinge 'em,
Knocke me their braines into their breeches.
Exeunt.
Boors.
Hold, hold.
Flo.
What these men are I know not, nor for what curse
They shou'd thus thrust themselves into my danger,
Can I imagine. But sure heavens hand was in't,
Nor why this coward knave should deale so basely
To eate me up with slaves: but heaven, I thanke thee,
I hope thou hast reserv'd me to an end
Fit for thy creature, and worthy of thine honour:
Would all my other dangers here had suffered,
With what a joyfull heart should I goe home then?
Wher now, heaven knows; like him that waits his sentēce
Or heares his passing bell; but ther's my hope still.
Enter Gerrard.
Ger.
Blessing upon you Master.
Flo.
Thanke ye; leave me,
For by my troth I have nothing now to give thee.
Ger.
Indeed I do not aske Sir, only it grieves me
To see ye looke so sad; now goodnesse keepe ye
From troubles in your minde.
Flo.
If I were troubled
What could thy comfort do? prethee Clause, leave me.
Ger.
Good Master be not angry; for what I say
Is out of true love to ye.
Flo.
I know thou lov'st me.
Ger.
Good Mr. blame that love then, If I prove so sawcy
To aske ye why ye are sad.
Flo.
Most true, I am so,
And such a sadnesse I have got will sinke me.
Ger.
Heaven shield it, Sir.
Flo.
Faith thou must loose thy Master.
Ger.
I had rather loose my neck Sir: would I knew—
Flo.
What would the knowledg do thee good, so miserable,
Thou canst not help thy selfe? when all my ways
Nor all the friends I have—
Ger.
You do not know Sir,
What I can doe: cures sometimes, for mens cares
Flow, where they least expect 'em.
Flo.
I know thou wouldst doe,
But fare-well Clause, and pray for thy poore Master.
Ger.
I will not leave ye.
Flo.
How?
Ger.
I dare not leave ye,
And till ye beate me dead, I must not leave ye.
By what ye hold most pretious, by heavens goodnesse,
As your faire youth may prosper, good Sir tell me:
My minde beleeves yet something's in my power
May ease you of this trouble.
Flo.
I will tell thee
For a hundred thousand crownes upon my credit,
Taken up of Merchants to supply my traffiques,
85
And no returne to help me off, yet shewing
To morrow, Clause, to morrow, which must come
In spron, thou shalt finde me poore, and broken.
Ger.
I cannot blame your griefe Sir.
Flo.
Now, what say'st thou?
Ger.
I say you should not shrinck, for he that gave ye,
Can give you more, his power can bring ye off Sir,
When friends and all forsake ye, yet he see you.
Flo.
That's all my hope.
Ger.
Hope still Sir, are you tide
Within the compasse of a day, good Master,
To pay this masse of money?
Flo.
Ev'n to morrow;
But why do I stand mocking of my misery?
Is't not enough the floods, and friends forget me?
Ger.
Will no lesse serve?
Flo.
What if it would?
Ger.
Your patience,
I do not aske to mock ye: 'tis a great sum,
A sum for mighty men to start, and stick at;
But not for honest: have ye no friends left ye,
None that have felt your bounty? worth this duty?
Flo.
Duty? thou know'st it not.
Ger.
It is a duty,
And as a duty, from those men have felt ye,
Should be return'd againe: I have gain'd by ye,
A daily almes these seven yearess you have showr'd me,
Will halfe supply your want.
Flo.
Why do'st thou foole me?
Can'st thou worke miracles?
Ger.
To save my Master,
I can worke this.
Flo.
Thou wilt make me angry with thee.
Ger.
For doing good?
Flo.
What power hast thou?
Ger.
Enquire not:
So I can do it, to preserve my Master;
Nay if it be three parts.
Flo.
O that I had it,
But good Clause, talke no more, I feele thy charity,
As thou has felt mine: but alas!
Ger.
Distrust not.
Tis that that quenches ye: pull up your spirit,
Your good, your honest, and your noble spirit;
For if the fortunes of ten thousand people
Can save ye, rest assur'd; you have forgot Sir,
The good ye did, which was the power you gave me;
Ye shall now know the King of Beggars treasure:
And let the windes blow as they please, the Seas roare,
Yet, here to morrow, you shall finde your harbour
Here faile me not, for if I live I'le fit ye.
Flo.
How faine I would believe thee.
Ger.
If I ly Master,
Believe no man hereafter.
Flo.
I will trye thee,
But he knowes, that knowes all.
Ger.
Know me to morrow,
And if I know not how to cure ye, kill me;
So passe in peace, my best, my worthiest Master.
Exeunt.
| Beggars Bush | |