University of Virginia Library

Actus Quartus.

Enter Mistris Jane, Godfry Speedewell, and Master Lambskin.
Iane.
Gentlemen, my Father's not within; please
You to walke a turne or two in the garden,
Hee'l not be long.

Lamb.
Your father, Mistris Iane, I hope you have observation in you,
And know our humours; we come not a wooing to your Father.

Speed.
Experience must beare with folly; Thou art all innocent,
And thy name is Lambskin; grave Sapience guides me,
And I care not a pin for thy squibs, and thy Crackers;
My old dry wood shall make a lusty bonefire, when
Thy greene Chips shall lye hissing in the Chimney-
Corner. Remember Mistris, I can make you a Lady by
Mine owne experience.

Lamb.
Prethee doe not stand troubling the Gentlewoman
With thy musty sentences, but let her love be laid
Downe betwixt us like a paire of Cudgells, and into
Whose hands she thrusts the weapons first, let him
Take up the Bucklers.

Speed.
A match betweene us

Jane.
Must I be stickler then?

Lamb.
We are both to run at the Ring of your setting
Vp, and you must tell us who deserves most favour.

Jane.
But will you stand both at my disposing?

Lamb.
Else let me never stand but in a Pillory.

Jane.
You love me both you say?

Speed.
By this hand,—

Lamb.
Hand? Zoundes by the foure and twenty Elements.

Iane.
Pray spare your oathes; I doe believe you doe
You would not else make all this stir to wooe.
Sir Godfry, you are a knight both tough and old,
A rotten building cannot long time hold.

Lamb.
Speedwell, livewell, dye well, and be hang'd well,
Change your coppy well, your experience will not carry it else.

Iane.
Y'are rich too, at least your selfe so say;
What though? y'are but a gilded man of clay.

Lamb.
A man of Ginger-bread; y'faith I could finde in
My heart to eate him.

Iane.
Should I wed you, the fire with frost must marry
Ianuary and May; I for a younger tarry.

Lamb.
That's I; introth I'le be thy young Lambskin; thou shalt
Finde me as innocent as a sucking Dove: speake, Sweete
Mistris, am I the youth in a basket?

Iane.
You are the sweete youth Sir, whose pretty eyes
Would make me love; but you must first be wise.

Speede.
Ah, hah, is your coxcombe cut? I see experience must
Boord this faire Pinnace: a word in private.

Lamb.
I'l have no words in private, unlesse I heare too.

Enter Master Bruine, Stephen and Robin.
Bru.
Come Gentlemen, we'l make few
Words about it; Merchants in
Bargaining must not, like Souldiors lying at a siege, stay
Moneths, weekes, daies, but strike at the first parley.
Broad-clothes, and Woolls, and other rich Commodities, I
Lately from your brother bought, are all your owne.

Ste.
'Tis well.

Bru.
Then be not angry gentle Sir,
If now a string be touch'd, which hath too long
Sounded so harshly over all the Citty;
I now would winde it to a musicall height.

Ste.
Good Master Alderman. I thinke that string will still
Offend mine eare; You meane the jarring
'Twixt me and my brother?

Bru.
In troth the same,

Ste.
I hate no poyson like that brothers name

Bru.
O Fye, not so.

Ste.
Vncivill churle, when all his sailes were up,
And that his proud heart danc'd on golden waves:

Bru.
As heaven be thank'd it still does.

Ste.
Yet Sir, then I being sunke, and drown'd in mine
Owne misery, he would not cast out a poore line
Of thred to bring me to the shore; I had bin
Dead, and might have starv'd for him.

Bru.
A better fate Sir, stood at your elbow.

Ste.
True Sir; this was he that lifted me from want
And misery, whose cruell father for that
Good cast him away; scorning his name and blood;
Lopt from his side this branch that held me deere.
For which hee's now my son, my joy, my heire.
But for his father hang him.

Bru.
Fye, fye.

Ste.
By heaven.

Bru.
Come, come, live in more charity, he is your brother;
If that name offend, I'l sing that tune no more.
Yonder's my daughter busie with her suitors;
Wee'l visit them. Now Iane, bid your friends
Welcome.

Iane.
They must be welcome Sir, that come with you;
To thee ten thousand welcomes still are due.

Rob.
My sweete Mistris.

Kisse him.
Lamb.
Zounds Sir knight, we have stood beating the Bush
And the bird's flowne away; this Citty
Bowler has kist the Mistris at first cast.

Bru.
How fare yee Gentlemen, what cheere Sir knight?

Speed.
An adventurer still Sir, to this new found land.

Lamb.
He sayles about the point Sir, but he cannot put in yet.

Bru.
The winde may turne Sir. A word Master Foster.

Lamb.
You see Sir Speedwell, what Card is turn'd
Vp for trumpe; I hold my life this spruce
Cittizen will forestall the market, Oh
These briske factors, are notable firkers.

Speed.
I doubt Sir, he will play the merchant with us.

Bru.
They both are suitors Sir, yet both shoote wide;
My daughter sure must be your kinsmans bride.

Ste.
I'l give her a wedding Ring on that condition
And put a Stone in't worth a thousand pounde, Sir.

Bru.
You have my hand and heart too't, be she pleas'd so.

Lamb.
S'foote, let's shew our selves Gallants, or Gallymaw-fryes;
Shall we be out-brav'd by a Cockney. A word
My faire Zenocrates; Doe you see Sir, here be those
That have gon a fishing, and can give you a
Gudgion.

Rob.
You were best goe fish for better manners, or I
Shall bob for Eles with you.

Lamb.
Zoundes are you a striker? Draw, Sir knight.

Bru.
Not in my house; I pray be quiet Gentlemen.

Rob.
He dares not doe't abroad believe me, Sir.

Ste.
Now by my life my Boy, for this brave spirit
I hug thee in mine armes: lose life and limbes
E'r thou forsake thy love.

Lamb.
Hee's no Rivall here Sir; has struck me,
And we are Gentlemen.

Speed.
And heare yee, Sir, let him seeke out his equalls;
For some of us are in danger to make her
A Lady shortly: I know what I speake; what
I speake, I'l doe; yet I'l doe nothing, but
What comes from grave experience.

Ste.
Speake what you please Sir, hee's a Gentleman as
Good as either of you both, and shall in lists of
Love for such a bed-fellow, brave him that dares,
And here lay downe more gold to win her love,
Than both your states are worth.

Speed.
Ha? doe you know us, Sir? You grow too bold;
My experience now hath found you;
You were once a tatter'd fellow, your name is
Foster; have you such gold to give?

Lamb.
Yes, yes, has won it betting at the bowling Alleyes,
Or at the Pigeon-holes in the Garden Alleyes.

Ste.
You are muddy Groomes to upbraid mee with that scorne,
Which vertue now gilds over; Pray yee Gentlemen
May I request your names.

Lamb.
Our names are in the Heralds bookes I warrant you;
My name is Innocent Lambskin; and this Knight,
Simply though he stands here, is knowne to be
Sir Godfry Speedewell.

Step.
Well may he Speede Sir; Lambskin and Speedewell,
Ha? Is't so? I thinke I shall give you a medicine
To purge this itch of love, Sir.

Lamb.
No itch neither Sir, we have no scabs here,
But yourselfe and your Cozin.

Ste.
Very good Sir, my little Lambskin. I have you
Here in Sheepeskin; looke you, 'tis so y'faith.
See, Master Alderman, these two crackt Gallants
Are in severall bonds to my Predecessor
For a debt of full two thousand apiece.
Cozin, fetch me a Serjeant straite.

Rob.
Yes Sir.

Speed.
O let him, I have a protection, Sir.

Ste.
I'l try that, Sir.

Speed.
A Serjeant? Nay, then experience must worke,
Legs be strong and bold; when Serjeants waite
At feasts, the cheere's but cold.
I'l shift for one.

Ex.
Lamb.
Knight, knight; S'foote if an errand Knight
Run away, I were an arrand Asse to tarry,
And be catch'd in the lime-bush: I love the
Wench well; but if they have no hole to
Place me in, but the hole in the Counter,
I'l be gone and leave 'm; that's flat

Ex.
Bru.
You have scar'd the suitors from the marke, Sir.

Ste.
I am glad on't Sir: they are but such as seeke
To build their rotten state on you, and with your
Wealth to underprop their weaknesse;
Believe me, reverend Sir, I had much rather
You'd venter that my Cuz might call you father.

Enter Stephens Wife.
Bru.
We'l talke of that anon; See Sir,
Here comes your wife, the theame
Ent. Stepen's Wife.
Of all her time, with goodnesse mixt, the happy
Woman that was never vext; y'are welcome
Mistris Foster.

Wife.
I thanke yee Sir.

Ste.
Wife, your two debtors were here but now;
S. Speedwell
And Lambskin; A Wolfe could not have torne
Poore Lambskin worse, than the bare name
Of a Serjeant: the very thought made them both
To take their heeles and run away.

Wife.
'Las, they are poore and leane, and being so;
Kill them not till they are fatter.

Ste.
At thy girdle, Sweete, hangs the keyes, to
Lock the prison dores or let them loose:
'Twas my intent onely in way of mirth to
Rid them from the presence of Mistris Iane,
That our adopted son might have no bar
Vnto his love.

Wife.
The match is faire; and were that knot once tyed,
I'd send some Angels to attend the bride.

Enter George.
Ste.
Sir, here's your factor.

Bru.
Are the wares ready.

Geo.
Yes, and deliver'd Sir, to Master Foster's servants,
Who conveyed them in Carts to the Custome-
House, there to be shipt; but going with them,
Sir, I met ill newes.

Bru.
Ill newes? what ist?

Geo.
Old Master Foster's ships so richly laden,
By strange misfortune, Sir, are cast away.

Bru.
Now heaven forbid!

Rob.
Oh mee!

Ste.
How? cast away; where?

Bru.
'Tis impossible; they rid at Dover safe,
When he out-bought my full share in the fraught,
And paid me downe neare thirty thousand pounds
In wares and money.

Geo.
Which had he not done, you had lost your venture:
By Master Foster's owne appointment Sir, they weighed
Their Anchors up, and so to come for London;
But by a mercilesse storme they all were
Swallowed, even in the Theames mouth; yet
The men were sav'd, but all the goods were lost.

Rob.
O my poore father! This losse will breake his backe.

Ste.
Ha? What's that to you? if in my favour you'l
Sit warme, then bury all love to him,
Nay duty, heare you Sir? What shed'st thou teares
For him, that had no care to see thy heart drop
Blood? he was unnaturall, and heaven hath
Iustly now rewarded him.

Bru.
'Tis a most strange Fate; he needes would buy my
Part at any rate, he car'd not what; and now all's lost,

Ste.
Greedy desire he swallowed, and now is swallowed:
'Tis but his hyre; and I'l not pitty it, no more
Than he, in his abundance, did my misery.

Wife.
I grieve for my poore Gossip, his good wife,
She never met good fortune all her life,
And this will breake her heart-strings:
In good sooth I'l goe and comfort her.

Ste.
In good sooth you shall not,
Nor him, nor her at this time, gentle wife;
He scorn'd me in his height, now being poore,
If that he needes my helpe, he knowes my doore.
Sir, we'l for this time leave you, at fitter leasure,
We'l have this marriage talk't of.

Bru.
At your owne good pleasure.

Ste.
Come wife; Goe not to see your father, Sir, I charge you.

Bru.
Iane, bring your friends toth' dore.

Rob.
I'l helpe my father, though my selfe grow poore.

Bru.
Where's my Factor?

Exeunt.
Geo.
Here Sir.

Bru.
What, are the square stones, and timber
Brought as I appointed?

Geo.
Yes, Sir, and the workemen, that daily ply the
Worke, are in number fourescore at least.

Bru.
My vowes flew up to heaven, that I would make
Some pious worke in the brasse booke of Fame,
That might till Doomesday lengthen out my name.
Neare Norton Folgate therefore have I bought
Ground to erect this house, which I will call
And dedicate, Saint Marie's Hospitall;
And when 'tis finish'd, o'r the gates shall stand
In capitall letters, these words fairely graven
For I have given the worke and house to heaven
And cal'd it, Domus Dei, Gods house;
For in my zealous faith I know full well,
Where good deedes are, there heaven it selfe doth dwell.

Ex.
Enter Old Foster, Richard his factor, and the Keeper of Ludgate
Rich.
Good Sir, resolve not thus; returne againe,
Your debts are not so great, that you should yeeld
Your body thus to prison unconstrain'd.

O. Fost.
I will not trust the iron hearts of men;
My credit's lost, my wealth the Sea has swallowed,
Wrack'd at my dore, even in the mouth o'th' Thames;
Oh my misfortune! never man like me
Was so throwne downe, and cast to misery.

Rich.
Deare Sir, be patient.

O. Fost.
I prethee get thee gone, and with thy diligence
Assist thy Mistris to keepe that little left, to
Helpe her selfe, whil'st here in Ludgate I secure
My body from Writs, Arrests, and Executions,
Which, well I know, my cruell Creditors will
Thunder on me. Goe, get thee gone; if what
Is left they'l take, doe thou agree;
If not, I am here resolv'd to stay and dye.

Rich.
I'l doe my best Sir, to procure your peace.

Exit.
O. Fost.
Do so. Come Sir, I yeeld my selfe your prisoner;
You are the Keeper of this Ludgate.

Keep.
Yes Sir, your name is registred among the prisoners.

O. Fost.
So, I have seene the faire outside of this tombe before;
This goodly apple has a rotten core.

Keep.
As all prisons have, Sir.

O. Fost.
I prethee bar me of no priviledge due to a free
Citizen; Thou knowest me well?

Keep.
Yes Master Foster, and I sorrow for your losses,
Yet doubt not but your son and brother.

O. Fost.
O speake not of them! doe not kisse and kill me;
I have no son nor brother that esteemes me,
And I for ever hate their memory:
Prethee no more; I am come sicke into a
Bad Inne, and looke for worse attendance,
I have taken a surfeit of misfortunes, and here
Must swallow pills
With poyson to recure me: I am sea-sicke, Sir,
And heave my hands to heaven; ne'r to so
Low an ebbe was Foster driven.

Keep.
There be some Fees to pay, Sir, at your comming in.

O. Fost.
So, so, if this old Wall-nut-tree, after all this
Cudgelling, have but one cluster left, thou shalt
Have that too; if not, take off these leaves that
Cover me; pull off these white locks; rend them from
My head, and let me in my woes be buried.

Keep.
'Las, Sir, this house is poore.

O. Fost.
I thinke no lesse;
For rich men seldome meete with such distresse,
Well, well, what booke must I reade over now?
What servile Oare must I be tyed to here,
Slave-like to tug within this christian Galley?

Keep.
Sir, being the youngest prisoner in the house,
You must beg at the iron grate above,
As others doe for your reliefe and their's.

O. Fost.
For a beggar to beg, Sir, is no shame;
And for the iron grate, it beares an embleme
Of iron-hearted Creditors, that force men lye
In loathsome prisons thus to starve and die.

Enter Robert and kneeles.
Keep.
Who would you speake with, Sir?
Oh, cry you mercy; 'tis his sonne:
I'l leave them.

Exit.
O. Fost.
O torment to my soule! What mak'st thou here?
Cannot the picture of my misery
Be drawne, and hung out to the eyes of men,
But thou must come to scorne and laugh at it?

Rob.
Deare Sir, I come to thrust my backe under your loade,
To make the burden lighter.

O. Fost.
Hence from my sight, dissembling villaine; goe,
Thine Vncle sends defiance to my woe,
And thou must bring it: Hence, thou Basyliske,
That kil'st me with mine eyes: nay, never kneele;
These scornefull mocks more than my woes I feele.

Rob.
Alas, I mocke yee not; but come in love,
And naturall duty Sir, to beg your blessing;
And for mine Vncle—

O. Fost.
Him, and thee I curse,
I'l starve, e'r I eate bread from his purse,
Or from thy hand; Out villaine, tell that Cur,
Thy barking Vncle, that I lye not here
Vpon my bed of ryot, as he did,
Cover'd with all the villanies, which man
Had ever woven; tell him I lye not so,
It was the hand of heaven strucke me thus low,
And I doe thanke it. Get thee gone, I say,
Or I shall curse thee, strike thee; Prethee away;
Or if thou'lt laugh thy fill at my poore state,
Then stay, and listen to the prison grate,
And heare thy father, an old wretched man,
That yesterday had thousands, beg and cry,
To get a penny: Oh my misery!

Rob.
Deere Sir, for pitty heare me.

O. Fost.
Vpon my curse I charge no nearer come,
I'l be no father to so vild a Son.

Exit.
Rob.
O my abortive fate!
Why for my good am I thus pay'd with hate?
From this sad place of Ludate here I freed
An Vncle, and I lost a father for it;
Now is my father here, whom if I succour,
I then must lose my Vncle's love and favour.
My Father once being rich, and Vncle poore,
I him relieving was thrust forth of dores;
Baffled, revil'd, and disinherited:
Now mine owne Father here must beg for bread,
Mine Vncle being rich, and yet if I
Feede him, my selfe must beg. Oh misery,
How bitter is thy taste! yet I will drinke
Thy strongest poyson; fret what mischiefe can,
I'l feede my Father, though, like the Pellican,
I pecke mine owne brest for him.

Old Foster, and above at the grate, a box hanging downe.
O. Fost.
Bread, bread, one penny to buy a
Loafe of bread for the tender mercy!

Rob.
O me my shame! I know that voyce full well;
I'l help thy wants, although thou curse me still.

O. Fost.
Bread, bread; some Christian man send back
Your charity to an number of poore prisoners;
One penny for the tender mercy.
Robin puts in money.
The hand of heaven reward you, gentle Sir,
Never may you want, never feele misery;
Let blessings in unnumbred measure grow,
And fall upon your head where e'r you goe.

Rob.
O happy comfort! curses to the ground
First strucke me, now with blessings I am crown'd.

O. Fost.
Bread, bread, for the tender mercy; one
Penny for a loafe of bread.

Rob.
I'l buy more blessings; Take thou all my store,
I'l keepe no coyne; and see my father poore.

O. Fost,
Good Angels guard you, Sir, my prayers shalbe
That heaven may blesse you for this charity.

Rob.
If he knew me, sure he would not say so;
Yet I have comfort if by any meanes
I get a blessing from my fathers hands:
How cheape are good prayers? A poore penny buyes
That, by which man up in a minute flies,
And mounts to heaven.
Enter Stephen.
Oh me, mine Vncle sees me!

Ste.
Now Sir, what make you here so neere the prison?

Rob.
I was going, Sir, to buy meate for a poore bird I have,
That sits so sadly in the Cage of late,
I thinke he'l dye for sorrow.

Ste.
So Sir, your pitty will not quit you paines, I feare me;
I shall finde that bird I thinke to be that churlish
Wretch, your father, that now has taken
Shelter here in Ludgate; Goe too, Sir urge me
Not, you'd best; I have given you warning:
Fawne not on him nor come not neare him,
If you'l have my love.

Rob.
'Las Sir, that Lambe
Were most unnaturall that should hate the Dam.

Ste.
Lambe me no Lambs, Sir.

Rob.
Good Vncle; 'las you know when you lay here.
I succour'd you, so let me now helpe him.

Ste.
Yes, as he did me,
To laugh and triumph at my misery;
You freed me with his gold, but 'gainst his will:
For him I might have rotted, and laine still;
So shall he now.

Rob.
Alack the day!

Ste.
If him thou pitty, 'tis thine owne decay:

O. Fost.
Bread, bread, some charitable man remember
The poore prisoners; bread for the tender mercy,
One penny.

Rob.
O listen Vncle; that's my poore father's voyce.

Ste.
There let him howle; Get you gon, and come not neare him

Rob.
O my soule! what tortours dost thou feele?
Earth neare shall find, a son so true,
Yet forc'd to be unkind.

Exit.
Ste.
Well, go thy waies, thou patterne of true vertue;
My heart is full, I could even weepe, and much adoe I had to forbeare,
To heare a brother begging in a Iayle,
That but e'r while spred up a lofty sayle
As proudly as the best: Oh, 'twere a sin
Vnpardonable in me, should I not succour him?
Yes, I will doe't, yet closely it shalbe done,
And he not know from whence his comforts come.
What ho, Keeper there, a word I praye.

Enter Keeper.
Keep.
What's your pleasure, Sir.

Ste.
What's he that at the grate there beg'd even now.

Keep.
One Master Foster, Sir, a decayed Citizen new
Come in. Cry you mercy Sir, you know him
Better than my selfe, I thinke.

Ste.
I should doe, knew he me as I would know
Him: prethee take him from the grate,
And that no more he stand to beg,
There's ten pound to pay his score, and
Take off all his wants; if he demand
Who sends it, tell him, 'tis thine owne free
Hand to lend him money.

Keep.
Well Sir, I shall.

Ste.
Spend what he will, my purse shall pay it all;
And at his parting hence, the poorest prisoner,
And all free Citizens that live in Ludgate,
Shall blesse his comming in; I'l for his sake
Doe something now, that whil'st this Citty stands,
Shall keepe the Foster's name engraven so high,
As no blacke storme shall cloud their memory.

Keep.
Heaven blesse your purpose, Sir.

Exeunt.
Enter Stephens Wife, and her sister Old Fosters Wife.
Wife.
Sister, there's no way to make sorrow light
But in the noble bearing; be content;
Blowes given from heaven are our due punishment;
All ship wracks are no drownings, you see buildings
Made fairer from their Ruines; he that I married,
The brother to your husband, lay, you know,
On the same bed of misery, yet now
Hee's ranckt with the best Citizens.

M. Fost.
O you were borne to wealth and
Happinesse; I, to want and scorne!

Wife.
Come, I will worke my husband; stay this griefe.
The longest sorrow findes at last reliefe.
Enter Clowne.
Now Sir, your businesse.

Clo.
Marry mistris here are two creatures
Scarce able to make one man, desires to speake
With you.

Wife.
What are they, know their names.

Clo.
Nay, I know that already; the one is a
Thing that was pluc'd into the
World, by the head and shoulders to be
Wondered at, and 'tis cald a knight; the other
Is a coach-horse of the same over-ridden race;
And that's a foolish Gentleman.

Wife.
O, they are my old debtors, Speedwell and Lambskin
Goe call them in, and my gentle sister
Comfort your selfe and my imprison'd brother,
To whom commend me give to him this gold,
What good I can, I'l doe for him be bold.

M. Fost.
May heavenly blessings guard you from all ill:
Never was woman vext as I am still.

Exit.
Enter Speedewell and Lambskin.
Wife.
Now good Sir Godfry and Master Jnnocent.

Lamb.
I put my innocent case into your hands
Mistris, as a simple country Clyent thrusts his money
Into a Lawyers, who stands upon no great
Tearmes to take it.

Speed.
We come about the old businesse, the sicknesse of the purse Lady

Clo.
And they'd be loth to keepe their beds i'th'counter
Mistris; they are affraid of Serjeants, Master Lambskin,
Knowes that Mace is a binder.

Lamb.
No truly it makes me loose for I never smell it, though
It be two streetes off, but it gives me a stoole presently.

Clo.
I, you have bin a loose liver alwayes,
'Tis time to looke to you.

Speed.
Fayre Lady, we are your debtors, and owe you mony.
Experience tels us that our bonds are forfeit,
For which your husband threatned to arrest us; my
Shoulders love no such clappings, I love
Tobacco, but would be loth to drinke in Woodstreet-
Pipes; some money we will pay ere we goe hence:
I speake you see with grave experience.

Wife.
I know it well, Sir.

Lamb.
Had not your husband (when we went about fowling
For the Aldermans daughter) driven away the Bird
We might have bidden you to a better breakefast;
But now you must take what we can set before you.

Ent. Robert.
Wife.
I am content to doe so: you shall finde
Nor me nor my husband carry a griping minde.
Now Cuz, where's your Vncle.

Rob.
He's hard at hand, I saw him comming
With the Lord Maior and Aldermen.

Lamb.
Zoundes Knight, if the Maior come
The shoulder clappers are not farre off.

Wife.
O feare not, I'l be your surety Sir.

Clo.
Doe you not smell Poultry ware, Sir Godfry?

Speed.
Most horribly, I'l not endure the sent on't.

Wife.
Vpon my trust none here shall doe you wrong;
What is his businesse with the Alderman?

Rob.
About the entertainment of the King
That meanes to visit London.

Wife.
Saw you your sad father?

Rob.
I did; would I might never see man more
Since he so hates my sight; the prison doore,
Which gapes for commers in, that mouth of hell,
Shut me out with a churlish cold farewell;
After my fathers most unnaturall part
Was plaid on miseries stage, mine Vncle comes
In thunder on me, threatning with blacke stormes
To nayle me to the earth, if I releeved my
Poore old father.

Ent. Stephen.
Clo.
Here's my master now Gentlemen.

Ste.
O Gentlemen, y'are both welcome,
Have you paid this money on your bonds yet?

Wife.
Not yet Sir, but here they come like honest Gentlemen
To take some order for it: good Sweetheart
Shall it be put to me.

Ste.
Doe as you please;
In all thy deeds th'rt govern'd with good starres,
Therefore if thou cry'st peace, I'le not raise warres.
E'ne order it how thou wilt.

Wife.
I thanke ye Sir; then tell me Gentlemen,
What present money can you pay?

Speed.
Two hundred pound we can lay downe.

Lamb.
And take up seven times as much if we knew
Where to get it; but there's our lamentable case:
Mistris, if you strip us any neerer, you'l strip the
Skin and all I'le assure you,

Wife.
We'l sheare no sheepe so close.

Lamb.
No sheepe forsooth, but a poore innocent Lambskin.

Clo.
You should be a Calfe by your white face.

Wife.
All your two thousand pound Gentlemen we quit,
For your two hundred: goe pay the money to
My Cuz, and receive your two bonds canceld:
Say Sir, are ye content.

Ste.
Wife I must stand to the arbitrement.
Goe Cozin, receive their
Money, and Sirra make them drinke.

Clo.
I'le make them drinke if they will; come
Gallants empty your bags, and I'l bumbast
Your bellies; this leane Gentleman lookes
As if he had no lining in's guts, I could
Take him by the leg and hurle him into
The dog-house.

Exeunt.
Ste.
How now sweet wife, what art thou
Musing on?

Wife.
I must come a wooing to you Sir.

Ste.
A wooing sweet, for what?

Wife.
For your brother; Oh 'tis unmeet
For soules fram'd by one square to grow uneven,
'Tis like a warre 'mongst the great lights of heaven,
One cannot lose his beauty, but the other
Suffers ecclipse; so brother against brother.

Ste.
Wouldst have me kisse him that would kill me.

Wife.
Would you kill a man lying at your feet:
Doe good for ill.

Ste.
Thy songs are Angels tunes, and on thy wings
I'l flye with thee to heaven.
Thou speakest as I would have thee;
His debts I have justly weighed, and finde them light.

Wife.
The easier then tane off.

Ste.
Thou sayest most right,
But I of purpose keepe aloofe to try
My kinsman; whom I spied most dolefully
Hovering about the grate, where his father cry'd
With pitteous voyce, for bread; yet did I chide
And rayl'd against the Boy; but my heart sayes
(How ere my tongue) it was drown'd in teares,
To see such goodnesse in a sonne.

Wife.
Such wheeles in childrens bosome seldome runne.

Ste.
I'l lay a wager wife, that this two hundred pounde
Payd by these foolish fellowes, will by the Boy
Be given his father.

Wife.
Troth would it might:

Ste.
In doing me such wrong he does me right
Ludgate was once my dwelling, and to shew
That I true feeling of his misery knew;
Albeit long since blowne o're; so thou'lt consent,
Within that place I'l raise some monument,
Shall keepe our names alive till doomes-day.

Wife.
I gladly shall agree.
To any act that tends to charity.

Enter Mr. Bruine.
Bru.
Come, where's Mr. Foster? Oh you lose time Sir,
Not meeting fortune that comes to kisse you.
The Lord Maior and Aldermen stay at the Guildhall,
Expecting you, as well to set downe order
Touching the entertainement of the King,
As to elect you for the following yeere a Sheriffe of London.

Ste.
Their loves out-strip my merit.
Yet since they lay that load on me, I'l beare it,
And wait in scarlet on my leige and King.
But pray resolve me, Master Alderman,
Why makes the King this visitation?

Bru.
Troth Sir, to honour me, I thanke his highnesse,
Who with my Lord the Cardinall comes along
To see the dedication of my House,
Built for the weary travellers to rest in;
Where stands three hundred beds for their releefe,
With meat, drinke, and some money when they part,
Which I'l give freely with a willing heart.

Ste.
A pious, worthy, and religious act:
Come Sir, toth'Guildhall; Wife, looke to your
Kinsman, watch him neare; but doe not hinder
Him if he releeve his father: Come Master Alderman,
With such sweet incense up your offerings flye,
I'l build one Altar more to charity.

Exeunt.