Come hither, George.
O. Fos. This is the rich merchantman;
Mrs Fos. That's neither grave nor wise;
O. Fos. Who will kill a man at Tyburn shortly.
Mrs Fos. By carts that may arise;[91]
Or if the hangman die, he may have his office.
Brew. Then you have bargain'd, George?
George. And the ware carried home, sir; you must look
To be little gainer; but lose you cannot.
Brew. 'Tis all I desire from thence. Sir, I can furnish you
With wares I lately from your brother bought:
Please you go see them, for I would fain divide you,
Since I can win no nearer friendship.
Steph. I'll go with you, sir.
[Exeunt Brewen, Stephen, and George.