Act IV. Scene II. London. A Street Before Cromwell's House.

[Enter Friskiball very poor.]

O Friskiball, what shall become of thee?
Where shalt thou go, or which way shalt thou turn
Fortune, that turns her too unconstant wheel,
Hath turned thy wealth and riches in the Sea.
All parts abroad where ever I have been
Grows weary of me, and denies me succour;
My debtors, they that should relieve my want,
Forswears my money, says they owe me none:
They know my state too mean to bear out law,
And here in London, where I oft have been,
And have done good to many a wretched man,
I am now most wretched here, despised my self.
In vain it is, more of their hearts to try;
Be patient, therefore, lay thee down and die.

[He lies down.]

[Enter good man Seely, and his wife Joan.]

Come, Joan, come; let's see what he'll do for us
now. Iwis we have done for him, when many a
time and often he might have gone a hungry to bed.

Alas, man, now he is made a Lord, he'll never look
upon us; he'll fulfill the old Proverb: Set beggars a
horse-back, and they'll ride.--A, welliday for my Cow!
such as he hath made us come behind hand: we had
never pawned our Cow else to pay our rent.

Well, Joan, he'll come this way: and by God's dickers,
I'll tell him roundly of it, and if he were ten Lords: a
shall know that I had not my Cheese and my Bacon for

Do you remember, husband, how he would mooch up
my Cheese cakes? he hath forgot this now, but we'll
remember him.

Aye, we shall have now three flaps with a Fox tail; but,
I faith, I'll gibber a joint, but I'll tell him his own. Stay,
who comes here? O stand up; here he comes; stand up.

[Enter Hodge very fine with a Tipstaff; Cromwell, the
Mace carried before him; Norfolk, and Suffolk, and

Come, away with these beggars here; rise up, sirra.
Come, out the good people: run afore there, ho!

[Friskiball riseth, and stands a far off.]

Aye, we are kicked away, now we come for our own;
the time hath been he would a looked more friendly
upon us. And you, Hodge, we know you well enough,
though you are so fine.

Come hither, sirrah.--Stay, what men are these?
My honest Host of Hounslow and his wife!
I owe thee money, father, do I not?

Aye, by the body of me, dooest thou. Would thou
wouldest pay me: good four pound it is, I have a the
post at home.

I know tis true. Sirra, give him ten Angels:
And look your wife and you do stay to dinner:
And while you live, I freely give to you
Four pound a year, for the four pound I ought you.

Art not changed, art old Tom still! Now God bless the
good Lord Tom. Home, Joan, home; I'll dine with my
Lord Tom to day, and thou shalt come next week. Fetch
my Cow; home, Joan, home.

Now God bless thee, my good Lord Tom; I'll fetch my
cow presently.

[Exit Wife.]

[Enter Gardiner.]

Sirra, go to yon stranger; tell him I
Desire him stay at dinner. I must speak
With him.

My Lord of Norfolk, see you this same bubble,
That same puff? but mark the end, my Lord,
Mark the end.

I promise you, I like not something he hath done,
But let that pass; the King doth love him well.

God morrow to my Lord of Winchester.
I know you bear me hard about the Abbey lands.

Have I not reason, when religion is wronged?
You had no colour for what you have done.

Yes; the abolishing of Antichrist,
And of this Popish order from our Realm.
I am no enemy to religion,
But what is done, it is for England's good.
What did they serve for but to feed a sort
Of lazy Abbots and of full fed Friars?
They neither plow, nor sow, and yet they reap
The fat of all the Land, and suck the poor:
Look, what was theirs, is in King Henry's hands;
His wealth before lay in the Abbey lands.

Indeed these things you have alleged, my Lord,
When God doth know the infant yet unborn
Will curse the time the Abbeys were pulled down.
I pray, now where is hospitality?
Where now may poor distressed people go,
For to relieve their need, or rest their bones,
When weary travel doth oppress their limbs?
And where religious men should take them in,
Shall now be kept back with a Mastiff do,
And thousand thousand--

O, my Lord, no more: things past redress
Tis bootless to complain.

What, shall we to the Convocation house?

We'll follow you, my Lord; pray, lead the way.

[Enter Old Cromwell like a Farmer.]

How? one Cromwell made Lord Keeper since I
left Putney
And dwelt in Yorkshire. I never heard better news:
I'll see that Cromwell, or it shall go hard.

My aged father! state set aside,
Father, on my knee I crave your blessing:
One of my servants go and have him in;
At better leisure will we talk with him.

Now if I die, how happy were the day!
To see this comfort rains forth showers of joy.

[Exit Old Cromwell.]

This duty in him shows a kind of grace.

Go on before, for time draws on apace.

[Exit all buy Friskiball.]

I wonder what this Lord would have with me.
His man so strictly gave me charge to stay:
I never did offend him to my knowledge.
Well, good or bad, I mean to bide it all;
Worse than I am now never can befall.

[Enter Banister and his wife.]

Come, wife, I take it be almost dinner time,
For master Newton, and master Crosby sent
To me last night, they would come dine with me,
And take their bond in: I pray thee, hie thee home,
And see that all things be in readiness.

They shall be welcome, husband; I'll go before.--
But is not that man master Friskiball?

[She runs and embraces him.]

O heavens, it is kind master Friskiball!
Say sir, what hap hath brought you to this pass?

The same that brought you to your misery.

Why would you not acquaint me with your state?
Is Banister your poor friend quite forgot:
Whose goods, whose love, whose life and all is yours?

I thought your usage would be as the rest,
That had more kindness at my hands than you,
Yet looked askance, when as they saw me poor.

If Banister should bear so base a heart,
I never would look my husband in the face,
But hate him as I would a Cockatrise.

And well thou mightest, should Banister deal so.
Since that I saw you, sir, my state is mended:
And for the thousand pound I owe to you,
I have it ready for you, sir, at home;
And though I grieve your fortune is so bad,
Yet that my hap's to help you make me glad.
And now, sir, will it please you walk with me?

Not yet I cannot, for the Lord Chancellor
Hath here commanded me to wait on him,
For what I know not: pray God tis for my good.

never make doubt of that; I'll warrant you,
He is as kind a noble gentleman
As ever did possess the place he hath.

Sir, my brother is his steward; if you please,
We'll go along and bear you company:
I know we shall not want for welcome there.

With all my heart: but what's become of Bagot?

He is hanged, for buying jewels of the King's.

A just reward for one so impious.
The time draws on, sir; will you go along?

I'll follow you, kind master Friskiball.

[Exit Omnes.]
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