Brew. Heaven take the glory! a wondrous blessing;
O, keep us strong against these flowing tides!
Man is too weak to bound himself below,
When such high waves do mount him.
O. Fos. O, sir, care and ambition seldom meet;
Let us be thrifty; titles will faster come,
Than we shall wish to have them.
Brew. Faith, I desire none.
O. Fos. Why, sir, if so you please, I'll ease your cares;
Shall I, like a full adventurer, now bid you
A certain ready sum for your half traffic.
Brew. Ay, and I'd make you gainer by it, too;
For then would I lay by my trouble, and begin
A work which I have promis'd unto heaven;
A house, a Domus Dei shall be rais'd,
Which shall to doomsday be established
For succour to the poor; for in all ages
There must be such.
O. Fos. Shall I bid your venture at a venture?
Brew. Pray you, do, sir.
O. Fos. Twenty thousand pounds?
Brew. Nay, then you underrate your own value much: will you make it thirty?
O. Fos. Shall I meet you half-way?