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 say, have I thus cark'd and car'd, And all to keep thee like a Gentleman,

And dost thou let my Servants at their work;
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;

I cry you Mercy, are your Ears so fine ?
I tell thee, Knave, these get when I do sleep;

I will not have my Anvil stand 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'st relieve my Age,
And art thou now so lavish of thy Coin,
To scatter it among these idle Knaves ?

Crom. Father be patient, and content your self,
The time will come I shall hold Gold as trash :
And here I speak with a presaging Soul,
To build a Palace where now this Cottage stands,

As fine as is King Henry's House at Sheen.

(Beggar

Old Crom. You build a House? you Knave, you'll be a

Now afore God all is but caft away

That is bestow'd upon this thriftless Lad :

Well, had I bound him to some honest Trade,

This had not been; but it was his Mother's doing,

To fend him to the University :

How? build a House where now this Cottage stands,

As fair as that at Sheen ? he shall not hear me.

A good Boy Tom, I con thee thank Tom,

Well faid Tom, Grammarcies Tom :

In to your work, Knaves; hence saucy Boy.

[Exeunt all but young Cromwell.

Crom. Why should my Birth keep down my mounting

Are not all Creatures subject unto time?

To time, who doth abuse the World,

(Spirit?

And

And fills it full of hodge podge Bastardy;
There's Legions now of Beggars on the Earth,
That their Original did spring from Kings;
And many Monarchs now, whose 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 Course, which in the name of Fate
Is seen as often as it whirls about:

The River Thames that by our Door doth pass,
His first beginning is but small and shallow,
Yet keeping on his Course grows to a Sea.
And likewife Wolsey, 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 say.

Crom. Do you call, Sir ?

Old Crom. Here is Master Bowser 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 Master Bowser.

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

Petition?

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

Bow. It hall not need, we'll read it as we go by Water.

And, Master 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 self,
If with your liking it stand, Master 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 haste, lest some Body

Get between thee and home, Tom.
I thank you, good Master Bowser,

I thank you for my Boy,

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

go?

Bow. It shall not need, Sir: Master Cromwell, will you

Crom. I will attend you, Sir.

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

God speed thee, good Tom.

Enter Bagot, a Broker, solus.

Bag. I hope this day is fatal unto some,

And by their lofs must Bagot seek to gain.

This is the Lodging of Master Friskibal,
A liberal Merchant, and a Florentine,

To whom Banister owes a thousand Pound,

A

1

[Exeunt.

Merchant-Bankrupt, whose Father was my Master,

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 Master Friskibal,

And by this means shall I be sure of Coin,
For doing this fame good to him unknown:
And in good time, see where the Merchant comes.

Enter Friskibal.

Good morrow to kind Master Friskibal.

Frif. Good morrow to your self, good Master Bagot,
And what's the News you are so 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 promise you, I have not seen the Man
This two Months day, his Poverty is such,
As I do think he shames to see his Friends.

Bag. Why then assure your self to fee him straight,

For at your Suit I have arrested him,
And here they will be with him presently.

Frif. Arrest him at my Suit? you were to blame,

Iknow the Man's misfortunes to be such,

1

Fath. Look on me better, now my Scar is off:

Ne'er muse Man, at this Metamorphofie.
Lanc. Master Flowerdale!

Flow. My Father! I shame 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 save thy Soul.
Luce. This addeth Joy to Joy, high Heav'n be prais'd.
Weath. Mr. Flowerdale, welcome from Death, good Mr.
(Flowerdale.

'Twas said so here, 'twas said so here good Faith.
Fath. I caus'd that Rumour to be spread my self,
Because I'd fee the Humours of my Son,
Which to relate the Circumstance is needless:

And Sirrah, fee you run no more into that same Disease:
For he that's once cur'd of that Malady,
Of Riot, Swearing, Drunkenness, and Pride,
And falls again into the like distress,
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 honest Man, I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale, Welcome with all my Heart: I see your Care Hath brought these Acts to this Conclufior, And I am glad of it, come let's in and feast.

Oli. Nay zoft you a while, you promis'd to make Sir Arthur and me amends, here is your wisest Daughter, see which an's she'll have.

Lanc. A God's name, you have my good will, get hers. Oli. How say you then, Damsel.

Del. I, Sir, am yours.

Oli. Why, then send 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, shall 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 say true, Sir Arthur, she was ybore to it,

So well as her Mother; but I pray you shew us
Some Zamples or Reasons why you will not marry?
Del. Not that I do condemn a married Life,

For 'tis no doubt a sanctimonious thing :
But for the care and crosses of a Wife,

The trouble in this World that Children bring,
My Vow's in Heav'n in Earth to live alone,
Husbands, howsoever 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, shall's go to Dinner ?

Fath. To morrow I crave your Companies in Mark-lane:

To Night we'll frolick in Mr. Civet's House,

And to each Health drink down a full Carouse.

க