Beech.  Your poore estate! nay, neighbour, say not so, For God be thanked you are well to live.

Mer.  Not so good neighbour, but a poore young man,
That would live better if I had the meanes: 
But as I am I can content myselfe,
Till God amend my poore abilitie.

Neigh.  In time no doubt; why, man, you are but young, And God, assure your selfe, hath wealth in store, If you awaight his will with patience.

Beech.  Thankes be to God I live contentedlie,
And yet I cannot boast of mightie wealth: 
But yet Gods blessings have beene infinit,
And farre beyond my expectations. 
My shop is stor’d, I am not much in debt;
And here I speake it where I may be bold,
I have a score of poundes to helpe my neede,
If God should stretch his hand to visit me
With sicknesse or such like adversity.

Neigh.  Enough for this; now, neighbour, whats to pay?

Mer.  Two pence, good sir.

Beech.  Nay, pray, sir, forbeare; Ile pay this reckoning, for it is but small.

Neigh.  I will not strive since yee will have it so.

Beech.  Neighbour, farewell.

[Exit Beech and Neigh.

Mer.  Farewell unto you both. 
His shop is stor’d, he is not much in debt,
He hath a score of poundes to helpe his neede: 
I and a score too if the trueth were known. 
I would I had a shop so stor’d with wares,
And fortie poundes to buy a bargain with,
When as occasion should be offered me;
Ide live as merrie as the wealthiest man
That hath his being within London walles. 
I cannot buy my beare, my bread, my meate,
My fagots, coales, and such like necessaries,
At the best hand, because I want the coine,
That manie misers cofer up in bagges,
Having enough to serve their turnes besides. 
Ah for a tricke to make this Beeches trash
Forsake his cofer and to rest in mine! 
I, marrie, sir, how may that tricke be done? 
Marrie, with ease and great facilitie. 
I will invent some new-found stratagem,
To bring his coyne to my possession. 
What though his death relieve my povertie? 
Gaine waites on courage, losse on cowardice.

[Exit.

[SCENE II.]

Enter Pandino and Armenia sicke on a bed, Pertillo
their Sonne, Falleria his Brother, Sostrato his Wife,
Alinso their Sonne, and a Scrivener with a Will, &c.

Pan.  Brother and sister, pray you both drawe neere,
And heere my will which you have promised
Shall be performde with wished providence. 
This little Orphant I must leave behinde,
By your direction to be governed. 
As for my wife and I, we do awaite
The blessed houre when it shall please the Lord,
To take us to the iust Ierusalem. 
Our chiefest care is for that tender boye,