Enter DRAWER.
DRAW. Master Ilford, there's a couple of strangers beneath desires to speak with you.
ILF. What beards have they? gentlemenlike-beards, or brokerlike-beards?
DRAW. I am not so well acquainted with the art of face-mending, sir: but they would speak with you.
ILF. I'll go down to them.
WEN. Do; and we'll stay here and drink tobacco.[385]
SCAR. Thus like a fever that doth shake a man
From strength to weakness, I consume myself.
I know this company, their custom vile,
Hated, abhorr'd of good men, yet like a child
By reason's rule, instructed how to know
Evil from good, I to the worser go.
Why do you suffer this, you upper powers,
That I should surfeit in the sin of taste,
Have sense to feel my mischiefs, yet make waste
Of heaven and earth?
Myself will answer, what myself doth ask.
Who once doth cherish sin, begets his shame,
For vice being foster'd once, comes impudence,
Which makes men count sin custom, not offence:
When all like me their reputation blot,
Pursuing evil, while the good's forgot.
Enter ILFORD, led in by a couple of SERJEANTS, and GRIPE the usurer.
SER. Nay, never strive, we can hold you.
ILF. Ay, me, and the devil too,[386] and he fall into your clutches.
Let go your tugging; as I am a gentleman, I'll be your true prisoner.