O. Fos. Prythee, content thyself, I'll see
A present remedy. Sirrah, go call 'em in:
This worthy gentleman shall know the cause,
And censure for us both with equity.
Brew. Nay, good sir, let not me be so employ'd,
For I shall favour one for pity,
The other for your love's sake.
Enter Robert and Stephen Foster.
O. Fos. Now, sir,
Are all my words with you so light esteem'd,
That they can take no hold upon your duty?
Rob. Misconstrue not, I beseech you.
Mrs Fos. Nay, he'll approve his good deeds, I warrant you.
O. Fos. And you, sir?
Steph. Well, sir.
O. Fos. I had thought you had been in Ludgate, sir?