GOVERNOUR.
Is Cromwell gone then, say you, master Bagot?
What dislike, I pray? what was the cause?
BAGOT.
To tell you true, a wild brain of his own;
Such youth as they cannot see when they are well:
He is all bent to travail, that's his reason,
And doth not love to eat his bread at home.
GOVERNOUR.
Well, good fortune with him, if the man be gone.
We hardly shall find such a one as he,
To fit our turns; his dealings were so honest.
But now, sir, for your Jewels that I have,
What do you say? will you take my prise?
BAGOT.
O, sir, you offer too much underfoot.
GOVERNOUR.
Tis but two hundred pound between us, man.
What's that in payment of five thousand pound?
BAGOT.
Two hundred pound! birlady, sir, tis great:
Before I got so much, it made me sweat.
GOVERNOUR.
Well, Master Bagot, I'll profer you fairly.
You see this Merchant, master Banister,
Is going now to prison at your suit.
His substance all is gone; what would you have?
Yet in regard I knew the man of wealth—
Never dishonest dealing, but such mishaps
Hath fallen on him, may light on me or you—
There is two hundred pound between us;
We will divide the same: I'll give you one,
On that condition you will set him free:
His state is nothing, that you see your self,
And where naught is, the King must lose his right.
BAGOT.
Sir, sir, you speak out of your love,
Tis foolish love, sir, sure, to pity him:
Therefore, content your self; this is my mind:
To do him good I will not bate a penny.
BANISTER.
This is my comfort: though thou doost no good,
A mighty ebb follows a mighty flood.
MISTRESS BANISTER.
O thou base wretch, whom we have fostered
Even as a Serpent for to poison us,
If God did ever right a woman's wrong,
To that same God I bend and bow my heart,
To let his heavy wrath fall on thy head,
By whom my hopes and joys are butchered.