To speak my thoughts.

Sir John. What would you say?
Luke. No word, fir,

I hope fhall give offence; nor let it relish
Of flattery, though I proclaim aloud,
I glory in the bravery of your mind,

To which your wealth's a fervant. Not that riches
Is or fhould be contemn'd, it being a blessing
Deriv'd from heaven, and by your industry
Pull'd down upon you; but in this, dear fir,
You have many equals: Such a man's poffeffions
Extend as far as yours; a fecond hath
His bags as full; a third in credit flies
As high in the popular voice: but the diftinction
And noble difference by which you are
Divided from 'em, is, that you are ftyl'd
Gentle in your abundance, good in plenty,
And that you feel compaffion in your bowels
Of others miferies (I have found it, fir,

Heaven keep me thankful for't) while they are curs'd
As rigid and inexorable.

Sir John. I delight not

To hear this spoke to my face.

Luke. That shall not grieve you,
Your affability, and mildnefs cloath'd
In the garments of your debtors breath,

Shall every where, though you ftrive to conceal it,
Be feen and wondred at, and in the act

With a prodigal hand rewarded. Whereas fuch
As are born only for themselves, and live so,
Though profperous in worldly understandings,
Are but like beafts of rapine, that by odds
Of ftrength ufurp and tyrannize o'er others
Brought under their fubjection.

Lord. A rare fellow !

I am ftrangely taken with him.

Luke. Can you think, fir,

In your unquestion'd wisdom, I beseech you,
The goods of this poor man fold at an out-cry,
His wife turn'd out of doors, his children forc'd

To

To beg their bread; this gentleman's estate

By wrong extorted can advantage you?

Hoyft. If it thrive with him hang me, as it will damn him,

If he be not converted.

Luke. You are too violent.

Or that the ruin of this once brave merchant
(For fuch he was esteem'd, though now decay'd)
Will raise your reputation with good men ?
But you may urge, (pray pardon me, my zeal
Makes me thus bold and vehement) in this
You fatisfy your anger, and revenge
For being defeated. Suppofe this, it will not
Repair your lofs, and there was never yet
But fhame and scandal in a victory,

When the rebels unto reafon, paffions, fought it.
Then for revenge, by great fouls it was ever
Contemn'd, though offer'd; entertain'd by none
Put cowards, bafe and abject fpirits, strangers
To moral honefty, and never yet
Acquainted with religion..

Lord. Our divines
Cannot speak more effectually.
Sir John. Shall I be

Talk'd out of my money?

Luke. No, fir, but intreated

To do yourself a benefit, and preferve
What you poffefs intire.

Sir John. How, my good brother?

Luke. By making thefe your beads-men. When they eat, Their thanks, next heaven, will be paid to your mercy. When your fhips are at fea, their prayers will fwell The fails with profperous winds, and guard 'em from Tempefts and pirates; keep your ware-houses From fire, or quench 'em with their tears. Sir John. No more.

Luke. Write you a good man in the peoples hearts; Follow you every where.

Sir John. If this could be

Luke. It muft, or our devotions are but words..

I fee a gentle promife in your eye,

Make it a bleffed act,.and poor me rich
In being the inftrument.

Sir John. You shall prevail.

Give 'em longer day. But, do you hear? no talk of 't. Should this arrive at twelve on the Exchange,

I fhall be laught at for my foolish pity,

Which money-men hate deadly. Take your own time,
But fee you break not.. Carry 'em to the cellar,
Drink a health, and thank your orator.

Penury. On our knees,, fir.
Fortune. Honeft mr. Luke!
Hoyft. I blefs the Counter, where

You learn'd this. rhetorick..

Luke. No more of that, friends.

[Exeunt Luke, Hoyft, Fortune, Penury

Sir John. My honourable lord!

Lord. I have feen and heard all,

Excufe my manners, and wish heartily

You were all of a piece. Your charity to your debtors
I do commend ; but where you should exprefs
Your pity to the height, I must boldly tell you,
You fhew yourself an atheist..

Sir John. Make me know

My error, and for what I am thus cenfür'd,,
And I will purge myself, or else confefs

A guilty cause.

To

Lord. It is your harsh demeanour

your poor brother..

Sir John. Is that all?

Lord. 'Tis more

Than can admit defence. You keep him as

A parafite to your table, fubject to

The fcorn of your proud wife: an underling

To his own Neices. And can I with mine honour
Mix my blood with his, that is not fenfible

Of his brother's miferies?

Sir John. Pray you take me with you, And let me yield my reasons why I am No opener-handed to him. I was born

His elder brother, yet my father's fondness

To him the younger, robb'd me of my birth-right:
He had a fair eftate, which his loose riots

Soon brought to nothing. Wants grew heavy on him,,
And when laid up for debt, of all forfaken,

And in his own hopes loft, I did redeem him.

Lord. You could not do lefs..

Sir John. Was I bound to it, my Lord?

What I poffefs, I may with juftice call

The harveft of my induftry. Would you have me,
Neglecting mine own family, to give up

My eftate to his difpofure?:

Lord. I would have you,

What's pafs'd forgot, to use him as a brother;
A brother of fair parts, of a clear foul,
Religious, good, and honeft.

Sir John. Outward glofs

г

Often deceives, may it not prove fo in him?
And yet my long acquaintance with his nature.
Renders me doubtful. But that fhall not make
A breach between us: let us in to dinner,
And what trust or employment you think fit
Shall be conferr'd upon him: If he prove
True gold in the touch, I'll be no mourner for it.
Lord. If counterfeit, I'll never truft my judgment.
[Exeunt;

Actus fecundus, Scena prima.

Enter Luke, Holdfaft, Goldwire, Tradewell.

Holdfaft.

HE like was never seen.

T Lake.

Why in this rage, man? Holdfaft. Men may talk of country christmafs, and

court gluttony,

Their thirty pound for butter'd eggs, their pies of carps

tongues,

Their pheasants drench'd with ambergrife, the carcaffes

Of three fat weathers bruis'd for gravy to

Make fauce for a fingle peacock; yet their feasts
Were fafts compar'd with the city's.

Tradewell. What dear dainty

Was it thou murmur'st at ?

Holdfaft. Did you not observe it?

There were three fucking pigs ferv'd up in a difh,
Took from the fow as foon as farrow'd,

A fortnight fed with dates and muskadine,
That ftood my mafter in twenty marks apiece;
Befides the puddings in their bellies, made

Of Icknow not what. I dare fwear the cook that drefs'd it

Was the devil, difguis'd like a Dutchman.

Goldwire: Yet all this

Will not make you fat, fellow Holdfast.
Holdfaft. I am rather

Starv'd to look on't. But here's the mischief; though
The dishes were rais'd one upon another

As woodmongers do billets, for the first,

The fecond, and third course, and most of the shops
Of the best confectioners in London ranfack'd

To furnish out a banquet, yet my lady

Call'd me penurious rafcal, and cry'd out,
There was nothing worth the eating.

Goldwire. You must have patience,

This is not done often.

Holdfaft. 'Tis not fit it should:

Three fuch dinners more would break an alderman,
And make him give up his cloak. I am refolv'd
To have no hand in't. I'll make up my accompts;
And fince my mafter longs to be undone,

The great fiend be his fteward, I will pray,
And bless myself from him.

Goldwire. The wretch fhews in this

An honeft care.

Luke. Out on him! with the fortune Of a flave, he has the mind of one.

[Exit Holdfaft.

However

And

She bears me hard, I like my lady's humour,