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And less, to put in act. — It shall be so.
Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy,

He knows not to deceive me.—'
- Thomas!

Cash.

Sir.

Kit. Yet now I have bethought me too, I will not. Thomas, is Cob within ?

Cash.

I think he be, sir.

Kit. But he'll prate too, there is no speech of him. No, there were no man on the earth to Thomas, If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt. But should he have a clink in him, I were gone. Lost in my fame for ever, talk for th' Exchange! The manner he hath stood with, till this present, Doth promise no such change: what should I fear then?

Well, come what will, I 'll tempt my fortune once.

Thomas - you may deceive me, but, I hope

Your love to me is more

Cash.

Sir, if a servant's

Duty, with faith, may be call'd love, you are
More than in hope, you are possess'd of it.

Kit. I thank you heartily, Thomas: give me your hand:

With all my heart, good Thomas. I have, Thomas,
A secret to impart unto you - but,

When once you have it, I must seal your lips up;
So far I tell you, Thomas.

Cash.

Kit. Nay, hear me out.

Thomas,

Sir, for that

Think I esteem you,

When I will let you in thus to my private.

It is a thing sits nearer to my crest,

Than thou art 'ware of, Thomas; if thou should'st
Reveal it, but

Cash.

Kit.

How, I reveal it?

Nay,

I do not think thou would'st; but if thou should'st, 'T were a great weakness.

Cash.

Give it no other name.

Kit.

A great treachery :

Thou wilt not do 't, then?
Cash. Sir, if I do, mankind disclaim me ever!
Kit. He will not swear, he has some reservation,
Some conceal'd purpose, and close meaning sure;
Else, being urg'd so much, how should he choose
But lend an oath to all this protestation ?
He's no precisian, that I'm certain of,
Nor rigid Roman Catholic: he'll play

At fayles, and tick-tack; I have heard him swear.
What should I think of it? urge him again,
And by some other way! I will do so.

Well, Thomas, thou hast sworn not to disclose: -
Yes, you did swear?

Cash.

Please you

Kit.

Not yet, sir, but I will,

No, Thomas, I dare take thy word, But, if thou wilt swear, do as thou think'st good; I am resolv'd without it; at thy pleasure.

Cash. By my soul's safety then, sir, I protest, My tongue shall ne'er take knowledge of a word Deliver'd me in nature of your trust.

Kit. It is too much; these ceremonies need not: I know thy faith to be as firm as rock.

Thomas, come hither, near; we cannot be

Too private in this business. So it is,

Now he has sworn, I dare the safelier venture. (Aside.)

I have of late, by divers observations

But whether his oath can bind him, yea, or no,

(aside).

Being not taken lawfully? ha! say you?
I will ask council ere I do proceed:
:-
Thomas, it will be now too long to stay,
I'll spy some fitter time soon, or to-morrow.
Cash. Sir, at your pleasure.

Kit.
I pray you search the books 'gainst my return,
For the receipts 'twixt me and Traps.

I will think : - and, Thomas,

Cash.

I will, sir.

Kit. And hear you, if your mistress's brother, Wellbred,

Chance to bring hither any gentleman,

Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word.
Cash. Very well, sir.

Kit.

To the Exchange, do you hear ?

Or here in Coleman-street, to justice Clement's.

Forget it not, nor be not out of the way.

Cash. I will not, sir.

Kit.

I pray you have a care on 't.

Or, whether he come or no, if any other,
Stranger, or else; fail not to send me word.

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Kit. But Thomas, this is not the secret, Thomas,

you of.

I told

Cash.

No, sir; I do suppose it.

Kit. Believe me, it is not.

Cash.

Sir, I do believe you.

Kit. By heaven it is not, that 's enough: but,

Thomas,

I would not you should utter it, do you see,

To any creature living; yet I care not.

Well, I must hence. Thomas, conceive thus much;

It was a trial of you, when I meant

So deep a secret to you, I mean not this,

But that I have to tell you; this is nothing, this.
But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you,
Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here.
No greater hell than to be slave to fear.

[Exit.

Cash. Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here! Whence should this flood of passion, trow, take head? ha!

Best dream no longer of this running humour,

For fear I sink; the violence of the stream
Already hath transported me so far,

That I can feel no ground at all: but soft-
Oh, 't is our water-bearer: somewhat has crost him

now.

Enter COB, hastily.

Cob. Fasting-days! what tell you me of fastingdays? 'Slid, would they were all on a light fire for me! they say the whole world shall be consumed with fire one day, but would I had these Ember-weeks and villanous Fridays burnt in the mean time, and then · Cash. Why, how now, Cob? what moves thee to this choler, ha?

Cob. Collar, master Thomas! I scorn your collar, I, sir; I am none o' your cart-horse, though I carry and draw water. An you offer to ride me with your collar or halter either, I may hap shew you a jade's trick, sir.

Cash. O, you'll slip your head out of the collar? why, goodman Cob, you mistake me.

Cob. Nay, I have my rheum, and I can be angry as well as another, sir.

Cash. Thy rheum, Cob! thy humour, thy humour - thou mistak'st.

Cob. Humour! mack, I think it be so indeed; what is that humour? some rare thing, I warrant.

Cash. Marry I'll tell thee, Cob: it is a gentlemanlike monster, bred in the special gallantry of our time, by affectation; and fed by folly.

Cob. How! must it be fed?

Cash. Oh ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed: didst thou never hear that? it's a common phrase, feed my humour.

Cob. I'll none on it: humour, avaunt! I know you not, be gone! let who will make hungry meals for your monstership, it shall not be I. Feed you, quoth he! 'slid, I have much ado to feed myself; especially on these lean rascally days too; an't had been any other day but a fasting-day- a plague on them all for me! By this light, one might have done the commonwealth good service, and have drown'd them all in the flood, two or three hundred thousand years ago. O, I do stomach them hugely. I have a maw now, and 't were for Sir Bevis his horse,1 against them.

Cash. I pray thee, good Cob, what makes thee so out of love with fasting-days?

Cob. Marry, that which will make any man out of love with 'em, I think; their bad conditions, an you will needs know. First, they are of a Flemish breed, I am sure on 't, for they raven up more butter than all the days of the week beside; next, they stink of fish and leek-porridge miserably; thirdly, they'll keep a man devoutly hungry all day, and at night send him supperless to bed.

1 Arundel, quite as famous as master and sword above referred to.

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