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Hodge. Will I bear thee company, Tom? what tell'ft me of Italy? were it to the fartheft part of Flanders, I would go with thee, Tom; I am thine in all weal and woe, thy own to command; what, Tom, I have país'd the rigorous Waves of Neptune's blafts, I tell you, Thomas, I have been in danger of the Floods, and when I have feen Boreas begin to play the Ruffin with us, then would I down a my Knees, and call upon Vulcan.

Crom. And why upon him?

Hodge. Becaufe, as this fame Fellow Neptune is God of the Seas, fo Vulcan is Lord over the Smiths, and therefore I being a Smith, thought his Godhead would have fome care yet of me.

Crom. A good Conceit but tell me, haft thou din'd yet? Hodge. Thomas, to fpeak the truth, not a bit yet, I. Crom. Come, go with me, thou fhalt have cheer good store: And farewel, Antwerp, if I come no more. Hodge. I follow thee, fweet Tom, I follow thee.

[Exeunt ambo. Enter the Governor of the English House, Bagot, Banifter, his Wife, and two Officers. Gov. Is Cromwell gone then? fay you, Mr. Bagot, What diflike, I pray? what was the cause?

Bag. To tell you true, a wild Brain of his own, Such Youth as they cannot fee when they are well: He is all bent to Travel, that's his reafon,

And doth not love to eat his Bread at home.

Gov. Well, good Fortune with him, if the Man be

We hardly fhall find fuch a Man as he,
To fit our turns, his Dealings were fo honeft.
But now, Sir, for your Jewels that I have,
What do you fay? what, will you take my Price?
Bag. O, Sir, you offer too much under foot.

gone.

Gov. 'Tis but two hundred Pound between us, Man,
What's that in Payment of five thousand Pound?
Bag. Two hundred Pound, birlady, Sir, 'tis great,
Before I got so much it made me fweat.

Gov. Well, Mafter Bagot, I'll proffer you fairly,
You fee this Merchant, Mafter Banister,
Is going now to Prison at your Suit:

His Subftance all is gone, what would you have?

Yet

Yet in regard I knew the Man of Wealth,
Never dishoneft Dealing, but fuch Mishaps
Hath fall'n on him, may light on me or you :
There is two hundred Pound between us,
We will divide the fame, I'll give you one,
On that condition you will fet him free:
His ftate is nothing, that you fee your felf,
And where nought is, the King muft lose his Right.
Bag. Sir, Sir, you speak out of your Love,
'Tis foolish Love, Sir, fure to pity him:
Therefore content your felf, this is my Mind,
To do him good I will not bate a Penny.

Ban. This is my Comfort, though thou doft no good, A mighty Ebb follows a mighty Flood.

Mrs. Ban. O thou base Wretch, whom we have fofter'd, Even as a Serpent for to poison us,

If God did ever right a Woman's wrong,

To that fame God I bend and bow my Heart,
To let his heavy wrath fall on thy Head,

By whom my hopes and joys are butchered.

Bag. Alas! fond Woman, I prethee pray thy worst. The Fox fares better ftill when he is curft.

Enter Mafter Bowfer a Merchant.

Gov. Mafter Bowfer! you're welcome, Sir, from England, What's the beft News? how do all our Friends?

Bow. They are all well, and do commend them to you: There's Letters from your Brother and your Son: So, fare you well, Sir, I muft take my leave, My Hafte and Bufinefs doth require fo.

Gov.. Before you dine, Sir? what, go you out of Town? Bow. I'faith unless I hear fome News in Town,

I muft away, there is no remedy.

Gov. Master Bowfer, what is your Bufinefs, may Iknow it?
Bow. You may, Sir, and fo fhall all the City.
The King of late hath had his Treasury robb'd,
And of the choiceft Jewels that he had:

The value of them was feven thousand Pounds,
The Fellow that did fteal thefe Jewels is hang'd,
And did confefs that for three hundred Pound,
He fold them to one Bagot dwelling in London:
Now Bagot's fled, and as we hear, to Antwerp,

And

And hither am I come to feek him out,
And they that firft can tell me of his News,
Shall have a hundred Pound for their Reward.
Ban. How juft is God to right the Innocent!
Gov. Mafter Bowfer, you come in happy time,
Here is the Villain Bagot that you feek,

And all those Jewels have I in my Hands:

Officers, look to him, hold him faft.

it.

Bag. The Devil ought me a fhame, and now he hath paid

Bow. Is this that Bagot? Fellows, bear him hence,
We will not now ftand for his Reply;

Lade him with Irons, we will have him try'd
In England, where his Villanies are known.
Bag. Mifchief, confufion light upon you all,
O hang me, drown me, let me kill my felf,
Let go my Arms, let me run quick to Hell.
Bow. Away, bear him away, flop the Slave's Mouth.
[They carry him away.
Mrs. Ban. Thy Works are infinite, great God of Heav'n.
Gov. I heard this Bagot was a wealthy Fellow.
Bow. He was indeed, for when his Goods were feiz'd,
Of Jewels, Coin, and Plate within his House,

Was found the value of five thoufand Pound,
His Furniture fully worth half fo much,
Which being all ftrain'd for the King,

He frankly gave it to the Antwerp Merchants,
And they again, out of their bounteous Mind,
Have to a Brother of their Company,
A Man decay'd by Fortune of the Seas,
Given Bagot's Wealth, to fet him up again,
And keep it for him, his Name is Banifter.
Gov. Mafter Bowfer, with this happy News,
'You have reviv'd two from the Gates of Death,
This is that Banister, and this his Wife.

Bow. Sir, I am glad my Fortune is fo good,
To bring fuch tidings as may comfort you.

Ban. You have giv'n Life uato a Man deem'd dead, For by thefe News my Life is newly bred.

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Mrs. Ban. Thanks to my God, next to my Soveraign

King;

And

And laft to you, that these good News do bring.
Gov. The hundred Pound I muft receive, as due
For finding Bagot, I freely give to you.

Bow. And, Mafter Banister, if fo you please,
I'll bear you Company, when you crofs the Seas.
Ban. If it pleafe you, Sir, my Company is but mean,
Stands with your liking, I'll wait on you.

Gov. I am glad that all things do accord fo well:
Come, Mafter Bowfer, let us to Dinner:
And, Mistress Banister, be merry, Woman,
Come, after Sorrow now let's cheer your Spirit,
Knaves have their due, and you but what you Merit.

[Exeunt omnes. Enter Cromwell and Hodge in their Shirts, and without

Hats.

Hodge. Call ye this feeing of Fashions?
Marry would I had staid at Putney ftill,
O, Master Thomas, we are spoil'd, we are gone.
Crom. Content thee, Man, this is but Fortune.

Hodge. Fortune, a Plague of this Fortune, it makes me go wet-fhod, the Rogues would not leave me a Shooe to my Feet; for my Hofe, they fcorn'd them with their Heels; but for my Doublet and Hat, O Lord, they embrac'd me, and unlac'd me, and took away my Cloaths, and fo difgrac'd

me.

Crom. Well, Hodge, what Remedy?

What shift fhall we make now?

Hodge. Nay I know not, for begging I am naught, for ftealing worfe; by my troth, I muft even fall to my old Trade, to the Hammer and the Horfe-heels again; but now the worst is, I am not acquainted with the humour of the Horfes in this Country; whether they are not coltish, given much to kicking, or no, for when I have one Leg in my Hand, if he fhould up and lay t'other on me Chops, I were gone, there lay I, there lay Hodge.

Crom. Hodge, I believe thou must work for us both.

Hodge. O, Mafter Thomas, have not I told you of this? have not I many a time and often faid, Tom, or Master Thomas, learn to make a Horfe-fhooe, it will be your own another Day; this was not regarded. Hark you, Thomas, what do you call the Fellows that robb'd us?

Crom.

Crom. The Bandetti.

Hodge. The Bandetti, do you call them? I know not what they are call'd here, but I am fure we call them plain Thieves in England. O, Tom, that we were now at Putney, at the Ale there.

Crom. Content thee, Man, here fet up these two Bills, And let us keep our standing on the Bridge: The Fashion of this Country is fuch, If any Stranger be oppreffed with want, To write the manner of his Mifery, And fuch as are difpos'd to fuccour him, Will do it. What, haft thou set them up?

Hodge. Ay they're up, God fend fome to read them, And not only to read them, but also to look on us: And not altogether look on us,

But to relieve us. O cold, cold, cold.

[One ftands at one end, and one at t'other. Enter Friskibal the Merchant, and reads the Bills.

Frif. What's here? two Englishmen robb'd by the Ban

detti,

One of them feems to be a Gentleman:

'Tis pity that his Fortune was fo hard,

To fall into the defperate Hands of Thieves.
I'll queftion him, of what Eftate he is.
God fave you, Sir, are you an Englishman?
Crom. I am, Sir, a diftreffed Englishman.
Frif. And what are you, my Friend.

Hodge. Who, I Sir, by my troth I do not know my felf, what I am now, but, Sir, I was a Smith, Sir, a poor Farrier of Putney, that's my Mafter, Sir, yonder, I was robb'd for his fake, Sir.

Frif. I fee you have been met by the Bandetti,
And therefore need not ask how you came thus.
But Friskibal, why doft thou question them
Of their Eftate, and not relieve their need?
Sir, the Coin I have about me is not much:
There's fixteen Duckets for to cloath your felves,
There's fixteen more to buy your Diet with,
And there's fixteen to pay for your Horse-hire.
'Tis all the Wealth, you fee, my Purse poffeffes;
But if you please for to enquire me out,
You fhall not want for ought that I can do,

My

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