Ger. I cannot blame your grief Sir.
Gos. Now, what say'st thou?
Ger. I say you should not shrink, for he that gave ye, Can give you more; his power can bring ye off Sir, When friends and all forsake ye, yet he sees you.
Gos. There's all my hope.
Ger. Hope still Sir, are you ty'd Within the compass of a day, good Master, To pay this mass of mony?
Gos. Ev'n to morrow: But why do I stand mocking of my misery? Is't not enough the floods, and friends forget me?
Ger. Will no less serve?
Gos. What if it would?
Ger. Your patience,
I do not ask to mock ye: 'tis a great sum,
A sum for mighty men to start and stick at;
But not for honest: have ye no friends left ye,
None that have felt your bounty? worth this duty?
Gos. Duty? thou knowst it not.