Enter Mistriss Merry-thought, and Michael.
Mist. mer. Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poor Suitor to you Sir, in the behalf of this child.
Mer. Are you not wife to Merri-thought?
Mist. mer. Yes truly, would I had nere seen his eyes, he has undone me and himself, and his children, and there he lives at home and sings, and hoyts, and revels among his drunken companions, but I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth, he knows not: And therefore if it like your Worship, I would intreat your Letter, to the honest Host of the Bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his Tapster, in some setled course of life.
Mer. I'm glad the heavens have heard my prayers: thy
Husband
When I was ripe in sorrows laught at me,
Thy son, like an unthankful wretch, I having
Redeem'd him from his fall, and made him mine,
To shew his love again, first stole my daughter:
Then wrong'd this Gentleman, and last of all,
Gave me that grief, had almost brought me down
Unto my grave, had not a stronger hand
Reliev'd my sorrows, go, and weep as I did,
And be unpittied, for here I profess
An everlasting hate to all thy name.
Mist. mer. Will you so Sir, how say you by that? come Micke, let him keep his wind to cool his Pottage, we'll go to thy Nurses, Micke, she knits silk stockings boy, and we'll knit too boy, and be beholding to none of them all.
[Exeunt Michael and Mother.
Enter a Boy with a Letter.
Boy. Sir, I take it you are the Master of this house.
Mer. How then boy?