Rime. Master Hearsay
Told us that Master Meanwell was new-married,
And thought it good that we should gratify him.
And show ourselves to him in a Fescennine.[236]
Cre. That rascal Meanwell was the cause of all:
I would I had him here.
Sir T. Why, this is he,
Sir Robert Littleworth his son: he hath
Disclos'd their villanies; he is no cheat.
Mean. God save you, Master Credulous; you have
Forgotten me, perhaps: I'm somewhat chang'd.
You see, your lost man's found; your vagabond
Appears at last.
Cre. Go, you are a gibing scab.
Leave off your flouting: you're a beardless boy,
I am a father of children.
Mean. And your son
Will be so shortly, if he han't ill-luck
To vex you more: that hundred pounds you sent
To Master Caster, Shape i' th' habit of
A country-fellow gull'd you of.
Cre. That rascal!
Thou show'st thy wit t' abuse an old man thus:
As God shall mend me, I will hamper thee.
Thou'st been disguis'd here all this while, thou hast!
Would I were bray'd in mine own mortar,[237] if
I do not call th' in question the next term,
For counterfeiting of the king's subjects.
Come away from him, sirrah, come along.
[Exeunt Credulous, Andrew, and Priscilla.
Mean. There's a trunk they've left behind; I have
Seiz'd it for you, so that you'll be no loser.