SCENE III.

_Enter +Plotwell+, in a sad posture. +Warehouse+, +Plotwell+, +Cypher+._

+Ware.+ Good morrow, nephew. How now? sad? how comes This melancholy?

+Plot.+ Can I choose but wear Clouds in my face, when I must venture, sir, Your reverend age to a long-doubtful voyage, And not partake your dangers?

+Ware.+ Fie! these fears, Though they become you, nephew, are ominous. When heard you from your father?

+Plot.+ Never since He made the escape, sir.

+Ware.+ I hear he is in Ireland: Is't true he took your sister with him?

+Plot.+ So Her mistress thinks, sir: one day she left th' Exchange, And has not since been heard of.

+Ware.+ And, nephew, How like you your new course; which place prefer you-- The Temple or Exchange? Where are, think you, The wealthier mines--in the Indies or Westminster Hall?

+Plot.+ Sir, my desires take measure And form from yours.

+Ware.+ Nay, tell me your mind plainly I' th' city-tongue. I'd have you speak like Cypher: I do not like quaint figures, they do smell Too much o' th' inns-of-court.

+Plot.+ Sir, my obedience Is ready for all impressions which----

+Ware.+ Again!

+Plot.+ Sir, I prefer your kind of life, a merchant.

+Ware.+ 'Tis spoken like my nephew; now I like you, Nor shall I e'er repent the benefits I have bestow'd; but will forget all errors [_Exit +Cypher+._ As mere seducements, and will not only be An uncle, but a father to you; but then You must be constant, nephew.

+Plot.+ Else I were blind To my good fortune, sir.

+Ware.+ Think, man, how it may In time make thee o' th' city-senate, and raise thee To the sword and cap of maintenance.

+Plot.+ Yes, and make me Sentence light bread and pounds of butter on horseback. [_Aside._

+Ware.+ Have gates and conduits dated from thy year; Ride to the 'spital on thy free beast.

+Plot.+ Yes, Free of your company. [_Aside._

+Ware.+ Have the people vail As low to his trappings, as if he thrice had fin'd For that good time's employment.

+Plot.+ Or as if He had his rider's wisdom. [_Aside._

+Ware.+ Then the works And good deeds of the city to go before thee, Besides a troop of varlets.[185]

+Plot.+ Yes, and I To sleep the sermon in my chain and scarlet. [_Aside._

+Ware.+ How say you? Let's hear that!

+Plot.+ I say, sir, I To sit at sermon in my chain and scarlet.

+Ware.+ 'Tis right; and be remembered at the Cross.[186]

+Plot.+ And then at sessions, sir, and all times else, Master Recorder to save me the trouble, And understand things for me. [_Aside._

+Ware.+ All this is possible, And in the stars and winds: therefore, dear nephew, You shall pursue this course; and, to enable you, In this half-year that I shall be away, Cypher shall teach you French, Italian, Spanish, And other tongues of traffic.

+Plot.+ Shall I not learn Arithmetic too, sir, and shorthand?

+Ware.+ 'Tis well-remembered; yes, and navigation.

_Enter +Cypher+._

+Cyph.+ Sir, Master Seathrift says you will lose the tide; The boat stays for you.

+Ware.+ Well, nephew, at my return, As I hear of your carriage, you do know What my intentions are; and, for a token How much I trust your reformation, Take this key of my counting-house, and spend Discreetly in my absence. Farewell. Nay, No tears; I'll be here sooner than you think on't. Cypher, you know what you have to do.

+Cyph.+ I warrant you, sir. [_Exit +Warehouse+._

+Plot.+ Tears! yes, my melting eyes shall run; but it Shall be such tears as shall increase the tide To carry you from hence.

+Cyph.+ Come, Master Plotwell, shall I Read to you this morning?

+Plot.+ Read! what? how the price Of sugar goes; how many pints of olives Go to a jar; how long wine works at sea; What difference is in gain between fresh herrings And herrings red?

+Cyph.+ This is fine: ha' you Forgot your uncle's charge?

+Plot.+ Prythee, what was't?

+Cyph.+ To learn the tongues and mathematics.

+Plot.+ Troth, If I have tongue enough to say my prayers I' th' phrase o' th' kingdom, I care not: otherwise, I'm for no tongues but dried ones, such as will Give a fine relish to my backrag;[187] and for mathematics, I hate to travel by the map; methinks 'Tis riding post.

+Cyph.+ I knew 'twould come to this. Here be his comrades. [_Aside._

+Plot.+ What, my Fleet Street friends? [_Exit +Cypher+._