_Ger_. Bless my good Master,
The prayers of your poor Beads-man ever shall
Be sent up for you.
_Gos_. God o' mercy _Clause_,
There's something to put thee in mind hereafter
To think of me.
_Ger_. May he that gave it you
Reward you for it, with encrease, good Master.
_Gos_. I thrive the better for thy prayers.
_Ger_. I hope so.
This three years have I fed upon your bounties,
And by the fire of your blest charity warm'd me,
And yet, good Master, pardon me, that must,
Though I have now receiv'd your alms, presume
To make one sute more to you.
_Gos_. What is't _Clause_?
_Ger_. Yet do not think me impudent I beseech you,
Since hitherto your charity hath prevented
My begging your relief, 'tis not for mony
Nor cloaths (good Master) but your good word for me.
_Gos_. That thou shalt have, _Clause_, for I think thee honest.
_Ger_. To morrow then (dear M'r.) take the trouble
Of walking early unto _Beggars Bush_,
And as you see me, among others (Brethren
In my affliction) when you are demanded
Which you like best among us, point out me,
And then pass by, as if you knew me not.
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