Classic Poem

To them, Sir Thomas Bitefig, Credulous .

Mea. God save you good Sir Thomas .
Sr Tho. Save you Sir.
Mean. You'r welcome Mr Credulous .
Cred. Come hither;
Whither do you steal now? what? where's your cloak?
And. Going to foiles ev'n now, I put it off.
Mea. To tell you truth he hath lost it at Doublets.
Cred. With what a lie you'd flap me in the mouth?
Thou hast the readiest invention
To put off any thing — — thou hadst it from
Thy mother I'l be sworn; 't nere came from me.
Mean. Peace as you love your self; if that the Knight
Should once perceive that he were given to gaming,
'Twould make him break the match off presently.
Cred. Sr Thomas here's my Son; he may be yours,
If you please to accept him.
And. Father don't
Give me away for this: try me once more.
Sr Tho. I like his person well enough, if that
You'l make him an Estate convenient.
Mean. He hath more in him Sir than he can shew;
He hath one fault, he's something covetous.
Sr Tho. Mary a very commendable fault.
Cred. He is descended of no great high bloud:
He hath a House, although he came of none.
His Grandfather was a good Livery man,
Paid scot and lot, old Timothy Credulous
My Father, though I say it that should not.
Sr Tho. I don't regard this thing, that you call bloud:
'Tis a meer name, a sound.
Mean. Your Worship speaks
Just like your self; me thinks he's noble,
That's truely rich: men may talk much of Lines,
Of Arms, of Bloud, of Race, or Pedigree,
Houses, Descents, and Families; they are
But empty noise God knows, the idle breath
Of that puff nothing Honour; Formall words,
Fit for the tongues of men that ne'r knew yet
What Stem, what Gentry, nay, what vertue lies
In great Revenues.
Sr Tho. Well and pithy said,
You may work on my Daughter, and prevaile,
For that yong stripling: 'Tis a foolish wench,
An unexperienc'd Girle, she'd like to have been
Caught by Sir Robert Littleworths Son, if that
I had not banish'd him my house: a youth
Honest enough I think, but that he's poor;
Born to more Name than Fortune.
Cred. He is safe
For ever wooing. I have laid his Father
Out of harm's way; there's picking meat for him:
And God knows where he's gon; he hath not been
Seen this long while; he's sure turn'd vagabond;
No sight of him since th' Arrest of his Father.
Andrew addresse your self to good Sir Thomas .
And. 'Slid Father you're the strangest man — — I won't.
Cre. As God shall mend me thou'rt the proudest thing — —
Thou canst not complement, but in Caparisons.
And. What's that to you? I'd fain say something yet;
But that I can't, my losses do so vex me.
Cred. Come think not on't my Boy, I'l furnish thee,
And. Sir, though — —
Cred. Nay, to't I say; help him Sir, help him.
And. Sir, though without my cloak at this time — —
To morrow I shall have one — — give me leave
Barely to say — — I am your servant Sir — —
In hose and doublet.
Cred. I'l do what you told me.
Hear. Take heed: if that you do't hee'l guesse you'r giv'n
To idle spendings, and so crosse the match.
I will invite him as to my self.
Cred. Do so.
Hear. Sir Thomas , if you'l please so far to grace us,
As be a guest to morrow here, we shall
Study hereafter to deserve the favour.
Sr Tho. Although I do not use to eat at Ord'naries,
Yet to accept your courtesie, good friends,
I'l break my wonted custome.
Hear. You shall have it
With a free heart.
Sr Tho. If I thought otherwise,
I do assure you, I'd not venture hither.