Steph. There let him howl.
Get you gone, and come not near him.
Rob. O my soul,
What tortures dost thou feel! Earth ne'er shall find
A son so true, yet forc'd to be unkind. [Exit.
Steph. Well, go thy ways, thou pattern of true virtue;
My heart is full: I could e'en weep,
(And much ado I had to forbear.)
To hear a brother begging in a jail,
That but erewhile spread up a lofty sail
As proudly as the best. O, 'twere a sin
Unpardonable in me, should I not succour him!
Yes, I will do't, yet closely it shall be done,
And he not know from whence his comforts come.
What ho! keeper, there! a word, I pray.
Enter Keeper.
Keeper. What's your pleasure, sir?
Steph. What's he that at the grate there begg'd even now?
Keeper. One Master Foster, sir, a decayed citizen new-come in. Cry you mercy, sir, you know him better than myself, I think.
Steph. I should do, knew he me, as I would know him.
Prythee, take him from the grate; and that
No more he stand to beg, there is ten pound
To pay his score and take off all his wants:
If he demand who sends it, tell him 'tis
Thine own free hand to lend him money.
Keeper. Well, sir, I shall.
Steph. Spend what he will, my purse shall pay it all;
And at his parting hence the poorest prisoner,
And all free citizens that live in Ludgate,
Shall bless his coming in: I'll for his sake
Do something now that, whilst this city stands,
Shall keep the Fosters' name engraven so high,
As no black storm shall cloud their memory.