Enter old Cromwell.

Old Crom. You idle Knaves, what are you loytring now? No Hammers walking, and my work to do? What not a Heat among your work to day

Hodge. Marry, Sir, your Son Thomas will not let us work at all.

Old Crom. Why Knave I fay, have I thus cark'd and car'd, And all to keep thee like a Gentleman,

And doft thou let my Servants at their work;

I

That sweat for thee, Knave? labour thus for thee?
Crom. Father, their Hammers do offend my Study.
Old Crom. Out of my Doors, Knave, if thou lik'st it not;
cry you Mercy, are your Ears fo fine?

I tell thee, Knave, thefe get when I do fleep;

I will not have my Anvil ftand for thee.

Crom. There's Mony, Father, I will pay your Men.

[He throws Mony among them. Old Crom. Have I thus brought thee up unto my Coft, In hope that one Day thou would'ft relieve my Age, And art thou now fo lavish of thy Coin,

To fcatter it among thefe idle Knaves?

Crom. Father be patient, and content your self,
The time will come I fhall hold Gold as trash :
And here I fpeak with a prefaging Soul,

To build a Palace where now this Cottage ftands,
As fine as is King Henry's Houfe at Sheen.

(Beggar you'll be a

Old Crom. You build a Houfe? you Knave,
Now afore God all is but caft away
That is beftow'd upon this thriftless Lad:
Well, had I bound him to fome honeft Trade,
This had not been; but it was his Mother's doing,
To fend him to the Univerfity:

How? build a Houfe where now this Cottage stands,
As fair as that at Sheen? he fhall not hear me.
A good Boy Tom, I con thee thank Tom,

Well faid Tom, Grammarcies Tom:

In to your work, Knaves; hence faucy Boy.

[Exeunt all but young Cromwell.

Crom. Why should my Birth keep down my mounting

Are not all Creatures fubje&t unto time?

To time, who doth abuse the World,

(Spirit?

And

And fills it full of hodge podge Baftardy;
There's Legions now of Beggars on the Earth,
That their Original did fpring from Kings;
And many Monarchs now, whofe Fathers were
The riff-raff of their Age; for Time and Fortune
Wears out a noble train to Beggary;

And from the Dunghil Minions do advance
To State; and mark, in this admiring World
This is but Courfe, which in the name of Fate
Is feen as often as it whirls about:

The River Thames that by our Door doth pals,
His first beginning is but Imall and fhallow,
Yet keeping on his Courfe grows to a Sea.
And likewife Wolfey, the wonder of our Age,
His Birth as mean as mine, a Butcher's Son;
Now who within this Land a greater Man?
Then, Cromwell, cheer thee up, and tell thy Soul,
That thou may'st live to flourish and controul.
Enter old Cromwell.

Old Crom. Tom Cromwell, what Tom I fay.
Crom. Do you call, Sir?

Old Crom. Here is Mafter Bowfer come to know if you have dispatch'd his Petition for the Lords of the Counsel,

or no.

Crom. Father, I have, please you to call him in.

Old Crom, That's well faid, Tom, a good Lad, Tom. Enter Mafter Bowfer.

Bow. Now, Mafter Cromwell, have you dispatch'd this

Petition?

Crom. I have, Sir, here it is, please you perufe it.

Bow. It shall not need, we'll read it as we go by Water. And, Mafter Cromwell, I have made a Motion May do you good, and if you like of it. Our Secretary at Antwerp, Sir, is dead, And the Merchants there have fent to me, For to provide a Man fit for the place : Now I do know none fitter than your felf, If with your liking it ftand, Mafter Cromwell.

Crom. With all my Heart, Sir, and I much am bound, In Love and Duty for your Kindness shown.

Old

Old Crom. Body of me, Tom,
Make hafte, left fome Body
Get between thee and home, Tom.
I thank you, good Mafter Bowfer,
I thank you for my Boy,

I thank you always, I thank you moft heartily, Sir:
Ho, a Cup of Beer here for Master Bowfer.

go?

Bow. It fhall not need, Sir: Mafter Cromwell, will

Crom. I will attend you, Sir.

Old Crom. Farewel, Tom, God bless thee, Tom,
God fpeed thee, good Tom.

Enter Bagot, a Broker, folus.
Bag. I hope this day is fatal unto fome,
And by their lofs muft Bagot seek to gain.
This is the Lodging of Mafter Friskibal,
A liberal Merchant, and a Florentine,

To whom Banifter owes a thousand Pound,

A Merchant-Bankrupt, whofe Father was my Mafter
What do I care for pity or regard,

He once was wealthy, but he now is fall'n,
And this Morning have I got him arrested
At the Suit of Mafter Friskibal,

And by this means fhall I be fure of Coin,
For doing this fame good to him unknown:

And in good time, fee where the Merchant comes.
Enter Friskibal.

Good morrow to kind Master Friskibal.

you

[Exeunt.

Frif. Good morrow to your felf, good Mafter Bagot,
And what's the News you are fo early stirring?
It is for Gain, I make no doubt of that.

Bag. It is for the Love, Sir, that I bear to you.
When did you fee your Debtor Banister?
Frif. I promife you, I have not feen the Man
This two Months day, his Poverty is fuch,
As I do think he fhames to fee his Friends.
Bag. Why then affure your felf to fee him straight,
For at your Suit I have arrefted him,

And here they will be with him presently.
Frif. Arreft him at my Suit? you were to blame,
I know the Man's misfortunes to be fuch,

Fath. Look on me better, now my Scar is off:
Ne'er mufe Man, at this Metamorphofie.
Lanc. Mafter Flowerdale!

Flow. My Father! I fhame to look on him.
Pardon, dear Father, the Follies that are paft.

Fath. Son, Son, I do, and joy at this thy Change, And applaud thy Fortune in this virtuous Maid, Whom Heav'n hath fent to thee to fave thy Soul.

Luce. This addeth Joy to Joy, high Heav'n be prais'd. Weath. Mr. Flowerdale, welcome from Death, good Mr.

(Flowerdale.

'Twas faid fo here, 'twas said so here good Faith. Fath. I caus'd that Rumour to be fpread my felf, Because I'd fee the Humours of my Son,

Which to relate the Circumftance is needless:

And Sirrah, fee you run no more into that fame Disease: For he that's once cur'd of that Malady,

Of Riot, Swearing, Drunkenness, and Pride,

And falls again into the like diftrefs,

That Fever is deadly, doth 'till Death endure:
Such Men die mad, as of a Calenture.

Flow. Heav'n helping me, I'll hate the course as Hell
Unc. Say it, and do it, Coufin, all is well.

Lanc. Well, being in hope you'll prove an honeft Man,
I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale,
Welcome with all my Heart: I fee your Care
Hath brought these A&ts to this Conclufion,
And I am glad of it, come let's in and feaft.
Oli. Nay zoft you a while, you promis'd to make
Sir Arthur and me amends, here is your wifeft
Daughter, fee which an's fhe'll have.

Lanc. A God's name, you have my good will,
Oli. How fay you then, Damfel.

Del. I, Sir, am yours.

get

hers.

Oli. Why, then fend for a Vicar, and chil have it Dispatched in a trice, so chil.

Del. Pardon me, Sir, I mean I am yours,

In Love, in Duty, and Affection.

But not to love as Wife, fhall ne'er be said,
Delia was buried, married, but a Maid.

Arth

Arth. Do not condemn your felf for ever, Virtuous Fair, you were born to love.

Oli. Why you fay true, Sir Arthur, fhe was ybore to it, So well as her Mother; but I pray you fhew us

Some Zamples or Reasons why you will not marry?
Del. Not that I do condemn a married Life,
For 'tis no doubt a fanctimonious thing:

But for the care and croffes of a Wife,

The trouble in this World that Children bring,
My Vow's in Heav'n in Earth to live alone,
Husbands, howfoever good, I will have none.
Oli. Why then, chil live a Batchelor too,

Che zet not a vig by a Wife, if a Wife zet not a vig
By me: Come, fhall's go to Dinner?

Fath. To morrow I crave your Companies in Mark-lane : To Night we'll frolick in Mr. Civer's House,

And to each Health drink down a full Caroufe.