SCENE II.
Enter Goswin.
Gos. No wind blow fair yet? no return of moneys?
Letters? nor any thing to hold my hopes up?
Why then 'tis destin'd, that I fall, fall miserably!
My credit I was built on, sinking with me.
Thou boystrous North-wind, blowing my misfortunes,
And frosting all my hopes to cakes of coldness;
Yet stay thy fury; give the gentle South
Yet leave to court those sails that bring me safety,
And you auspicious fires, bright twins in heaven
Daunce on the shrowds; he blows still stubbornly,
And on his boystrous Rack rides my sad ruin;
There is no help, there can be now no comfort,
To morrow with the Sun-set, sets my credit.
Oh misery! thou curse of man, thou plague,
In the midst of all our strength thou strik'st us;
My vertuous Love is lost too: all, what I have been,
No more hereafter to be seen than shadow;
To prison now? well, yet there's this hope left me;
I may sink fairly under this days venture,
And so to morrow's cross'd, and all those curses:
Yet manly I'll invite my Fate, base fortune
Shall never say, she has cut my throat in fear.
This is the place his challenge call'd me to,
And was a happy one at this time for me,
For let me fall before my Foe i'th' field,
And not at Bar, before my Creditors;
H'as 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.
Gos. 'Tis done Sir, And now have at ye.
Hem. Now.
Enter Boors.
Gos. 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 Boys.
Boors. Hold, hold.
Ger. Lay on still,
Down with that Gentleman rogue, swinge him to sirrup.
Retire Sir, and take Breath: follow, and take him,
Take all, 'tis lawful prize.
Boors. We yield.
Ger. Down with 'em Into the Wood, and rifle 'em, tew 'em, swinge 'em, Knock me their brains into their Breeches. [Exeunt.
Boors. Hold, hold.
Gos. What these men are I know not, nor for what cause
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 deal so basely
To eat me up with Slaves: but Heaven I thank 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 joyful heart should I go home then?
Where now, Heaven knows, like him that waits his sentence,
Or hears his passing Bell; but there's my hope still.
Enter Gerrard.
Ger. Blessing upon you Master.
Gos. Thank ye; leave me, For by my troth I have nothing now to give thee.
Ger. Indeed I do not ask Sir, only it grieves me To see ye look so sad; now goodness keep ye From troubles in your mind.
Gos. If I were troubled, What could thy comfort do? prithee Clause, leave me.
Ger. Good Master be not angry; for what I say Is out of true love to ye.
Gos. I know thou lov'st me.
Ger. Good Mr. blame that love then, if I prove so sawcy To ask ye why ye are sad.
Gos. Most true, I am so, And such a sadness I have got will sink me.
Ger. Heaven shield it, Sir.
Gos. Faith, thou must lose thy Master.
Ger. I had rather lose my neck, Sir: would I knew—
Gos. What would the knowledg do thee good so miserable, Thou canst not help thy self? when all my ways Nor all the friends I have—
Ger. You do not know Sir, What I can do: cures sometimes, for mens cares Flow, where they least expect 'em.
Gos. I know thou wouldst do, But farewell Clause, and pray for thy poor Master.
Ger. I will not leave ye.
Gos. How?
Ger. I dare not leave ye, Sir, I must not leave ye,
And till ye beat me dead, I will not leave ye.
By what ye hold most precious, by Heavens goodness,
As your fair youth may prosper, good Sir tell me:
My mind believes yet something's in my power
May ease you of this trouble.
Gos. I will tell thee,
For a hundred thousand crowns upon my credit,
Taken up of Merchants to supply my traffiques,
The winds and weather envying of my fortune,
And no return to help me off, yet shewing
To morrow, Clause, to morrow, which must come,
In prison thou shalt find me poor and broken.
Ger. I cannot blame your grief Sir.
Gos. Now, what say'st thou?
Ger. I say you should not shrink, for he that gave ye, Can give you more; his power can bring ye off Sir, When friends and all forsake ye, yet he sees you.
Gos. There's all my hope.
Ger. Hope still Sir, are you ty'd Within the compass of a day, good Master, To pay this mass of mony?
Gos. 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 less serve?
Gos. What if it would?
Ger. Your patience,
I do not ask 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?
Gos. Duty? thou knowst it not.
Ger. It is a duty,
And as a duty, from those men have felt ye,
Should be return'd again: I have gain'd by ye,
A daily alms these seven years you have showr'd on me,
Will half supply your want.
Gos. Why do'st thou fool me? Can'st thou work miracles?
Ger. To save my Master, I can work this.
Gos. Thou wilt make me angry with thee.
Ger. For doing good?
Gos. What power hast thou?
Ger. Enquire not: So I can do it, to preserve my Master; Nay if it be three parts.
Gos. O that I had it, But good Clause, talk no more, I feel thy charity, As thou hast 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 winds blow as they list, the Seas roar,
Yet, here to morrow, you shall find your harbour.
Here fail me not, for if I live I'le fit ye.
Gos. How fain I would believe thee!
Ger. If I ly Master, Believe no man hereafter.
Gos. I will try thee, But he knows, that knows all.
Ger. Know me to morrow, And if I know not how to cure ye, kill me; So pass in peace, my best, my worthiest Master. [Exeunt.