Volume Xi Part 72 (1/2)

STAINES. Yes, sir.

BUB. O intolerable rascal! I will presently be made a justice of peace, and have thee whipped. Go, fetch a constable.

STAINES. Come, y' are a flouris.h.i.+ng a.s.s: serjeant, take him to thee, he has had a long time of his pageantry.

SIR LIONEL. Sirrah, let him go; I'll be his bail for all debts which come against him.

STAINES. Reverend sir, to whom I owe the duty of a son, Which I shall ever pay in my obedience; Know, that which made him gracious in your eyes, And gilded over his imperfections, Is wasted and consumed even like ice, Which by the vehemence of heat dissolves, And glides to many rivers: so his wealth, That felt a prodigal hand, hot in expense, Melted within his gripe, and from his coffers Ran like a violent stream to other men's.

What was my own, I catch'd at.

SIR LIONEL. Have you your mortgage in?

STAINES. Yes, sir.

SIR LIONEL. Stand up: the matter is well amended.

Master Geraldine, give you sufferance to this match?

OLD GERA. Yes, marry do I, sir; for, since they love, I'll not have the crime lie on my head, To divide man and wife.

SIR LIONEL. Why, you say well: my blessing fall upon you.

WID. And upon us that love, Sir Lionel.

SIR LIONEL. By my troth, since thou hast ta'en the young knave, G.o.d give thee joy of him, and may he prove A wiser man than his master.

STAINES. Serjeant, why dost not carry him to prison?

SER. Sir Lionel Rash will bail him.

SIR LIONEL. I bail him, knave! wherefore should I bail him?

No, carry him away, I'll relieve no prodigals.

BUB. Good Sir Lionel, I beseech you, sir! gentlemen, I pray, make a purse for me.

SER. Come, sir, come, are you begging?

BUB. Why, that does you no harm. Gervase--master, I should say--some compa.s.sion.

STAINES. Serjeants, come back with him. Look, sir, here is Your livery; If you can put off all your former pride, And put on this with that humility That you first wore it, I will pay your debts, Free you of all enc.u.mbrances, And take you again into my service.

BUB. Tenterhook, let me go. I will take his wors.h.i.+p's offer without wages, rather than come into your clutches again: a man in a blue coat may have some colour for his knavery; in the Compter he can have none.

SIR LIONEL. But now, Master Scattergood, what say you to this?

SCAT. Marry, I say, 'tis scarce honest dealing, for any man to coneycatch another man's wife: I protest we'll not put it up.

STAINES. No! which _we_?

SCAT. Why, Gertrude and I.