|
|||||
|
|
|||||
|
Book, page 21 / 75 GOVERNOUR. Well, Master Bagot, I'll profer you fairly. You see this Merchant, master Banister, Is going now to prison at your suit. His substance all is gone; what would you have? Yet in regard I knew the man of wealth-- Never dishonest dealing, but such mishaps Hath fallen on him, may light on me or you-- There is two hundred pound between us; We will divide the same: I'll give you one, On that condition you will set him free: His state is nothing, that you see your self, And where naught is, the King must lose his right. BAGOT. Sir, sir, you speak out of your love, Tis foolish love, sir, sure, to pity him: Therefore, content your self; this is my mind: To do him good I will not bate a penny. BANISTER. This is my comfort: though thou doost no good, A mighty ebb follows a mighty flood. MISTRESS BANISTER. O thou base wretch, whom we have fostered Even as a Serpent for to poison us, If God did ever right a woman's wrong, To that same God I bend and bow my heart, To let his heavy wrath fall on thy head, By whom my hopes and joys are butchered. BAGOT. Alas, fond woman, I pray thee, pray thy worst; The Fox fares better still when he is curst. [Enter Master Bowser, a Merchant.] GOVERNOUR. Master Bowser! you're welcome, sir, from England.
|
Knowledgerush Search
|
|
Browse Books | Browse Authors | Search Home
| Dictionary
| Contact Us
| Privacy Statement & Terms of Use
|