[ACT I., SCENE I.]
Warehouse, Seathrift.
Sea. I promise you 'twill be a most rare plot.
Ware. The city, Master Seathrift, never yet
Brought forth the like: I would have them that have
Fin'd twice for sheriff, mend it.
Sea. Mend it! why,
'Tis past the wit o' th' court of aldermen.
Next merchant-tailor, that writes chronicles,[181]
Will put us in.
Ware. For, since I took him home,
Though, sir, my nephew, as you may observe,
Seem quite transfigur'd, be as dutiful
As a new 'prentice, in his talk declaim
'Gainst revelling companions, be as hard
To be entic'd from home as my door-posts,
This reformation may but be his part,
And he may act his virtues. I have not
Forgot his riots at the Temple. You know, sir——
Sea. You told me, Master Warehouse.
Ware. Not the sea,
When it devour'd my ships, cost me so much
As did his vanities. A voyage to the Indies
Has been lost in a night: his daily suits
Were worth more than the stock that set me up;
For which he knew none but the silk-man's book,
And studied that more than the law. He had
His loves, too, and his mistresses; was enter'd
Among the philosophical madams;[182] was
As great with them as their concerners; and, I hear,
Kept one of them in pension.
Sea. My son too
Hath had his errors: I could tell the time
When all the wine which I put off by wholesale
He took again in quarts; and at the day
Vintners have paid me with his large scores: but
He is reformed too.