Rut. But that you'l help us, Or any of your tribe, we dare not hope Sir.
Zab. Why think you so?
Rut. Because you are a Jew Sir, And courtesies come sooner from the Devil Than any of your Nation.
Zab. We are men,
And have like you, compassion when we find
Fit subjects for our bounty, and for proof
That we dare give, and freely, not to you Sir,
Pray spare your pains, there's gold, stand not amaz'd,
'Tis current I assure you.
Rut. Take it man,
Sure thy good Angel is a Jew, and comes
In his own shape to help thee: I could wish now
Mine would appear too like a Turk.
Arn. I thank you,
But yet must tell you, if this be the Prologue
To any bad act, you would have me practise,
I must not take it.
Zab. This is but the earnest
Of [t]hat which is to follow, and the bond
Which you must seal to for't, is your advancement,
Fortune with all that's in her power to give,
Offers her self up to you: entertain her,
And that which Princes have kneel'd for in vain
Presents it self to you.
Arn. 'Tis above wonder.
Zab. But far beneath the truth, in my relation
Of what you shall possess, if you emb[r]ace it.
There is an hour in each mans life appointed
To make his happiness if then he seize it,
And this, (in which, beyond all expectation,
You are invited to your good) is yours,
If you dare follow me, so, if not, hereafter
Expect not the like offer. [Exit.
Arn. 'Tis no vision.