Young Lo. What art thou now then?
Sav. If you consider me in little, I am with your worships reverence Sir, a Rascal: one that upon the next anger of your Brother, must raise a sconce by the high way, and sell switches; my wife is learning now Sir, to weave inkle.
Young Lo. What dost thou mean to do with thy Children Savil?
Sav. My eldest boy is half a Rogue already, he was born bursten, and your worship knows, that is a pretty step to mens compassions. My youngest boy I purpose Sir to bind for ten years to a G[ao]ler, to draw under him, that he may shew us mercy in his function.
Young Lo. Your family is quartered with discretion: you are resolved to Cant then: where Savil shall your scene lie?
Sav. Beggers must be no chusers. In every place (I take it) but the stocks.
Young Lo. This is your drinking, and your whoring Savil, I told you of it, but your heart was hardened.
Sav. 'Tis true, you were the first that told me of it I do remember yet in tears, you told me you would have Whores, and in that passion Sir, you broke out thus; Thou miserable man, repent, and brew three Strikes more in a Hogshead. 'Tis noon e're we be drunk now, and the time can tarry for no man.
Young Lo. Y'are grown a bitter Gentleman. I see misery can clear your head better than Mustard, I'le be a sutor for your Keys again Sir.
Sav. Will you but be so gracious to me Sir? I shall be bound.