_Gos._ Is my misery
Become my scorn too! have ye no humanity?
No part of men left? are all the Bounties in me
To you, and to the Town, turn'd my reproaches?
_4 Mer._ Well, get your moneys ready: 'tis but 2 hours;
We shall protest ye else, and suddenly.
_Gos._ But two days.
_1 Mer._ Not an hour, ye know the hazard. [_Exeunt._
_Gos._ How soon my light's put out! hard hearted _Bruges_!
Within thy Walls may never honest Merchant
Venture his fortunes more: O my poor Wench too.
_Enter_ Gerrard.
_Ger._ Good fortune, Master.
_Gos._ Thou mistak'st me, _Clause_,
I am not worth thy Blessing.
_Ger._ Still a sad man!
_Enter_ Higgen _and_ Prigg, _like_ Porters.
No belief gentle Master? come bring it in then,
And now believe your Beadsman.
_Gos._ Is this certain?
Or dost thou work upon my troubled sense?
_Ger._ 'Tis gold, Sir,
Take it and try it.
_Gos._ Certainly 'tis treasure;
Can there be yet this Blessing?
_Ger._ Cease your wonder,
You shall not sink, for ne'r a sowst Flap-dragon,
For ne'r a pickl'd Pilcher of 'em all, Sir,
'Tis there, your full sum, a hundred thousand crowns:
And good sweet Master, now be merry; pay 'em,
Pay the poor pelting Knaves, that know no goodness:
And chear your heart up handsomely.
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