Col. I did Sir, Heaven was gracious;
But now a stranger, and my wants upon me,
Though willingly I would preserve this life, Sir,
With honesty and truth I am not look'd on;
The hand of pity that should give for heaven sake,
And charitable hearts are grown so cold, Sir,
Never remembring what their fortunes may be.
Mir. Thou say'st too true: of what profession art thou?
Col. I have been better train'd; and can serve truly,
Where trust is laid upon me.
Mir. A handsome fellow;
Hast thou e'r bore Arms?
Col. I have trod full many a march, Sir,
And some hurts have to shew: before me too, Sir.
Mir. Pity this thing should starve, or, forced for want,
Come to a worse end. I know not what thou mayst be.
But if thou thinkst it fit to be a servant,
I'll be a Master, and a good one to thee,
If ye deserve, Sir.
Col. Else I ask no favour.
Mir. Then Sir, to try your trust, because I like you,
Go to the Dane, of him receive a woman,
A Turkish prisoner, for me receive her,
I hear she is my prize, look fairly to her,
For I would have her know, though now my prisoner,
The Christians need no Schoolmasters for honor.
Take this to buy thee clothes, this Ring, to help thee
Into the fellowship of my house: ye are a stranger,
And my servants will not know ye else; there keep her,
And with all modesty preserve your service.
Col. A foul example find me else: Heaven thank ye.
Of Captain Norandine?
Mir. The same.