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.