Gos. No news yet?

Ger. Do you hear Sir?

Gos. Yes.

Ger. Do you love me?

Gos. Have I liv’d In all the happiness Fortune could seat me, In all mens fair opinions?

Ger. I have provided A Priest, that’s ready for us.

Gos. And can the Devil, In one ten days, that Devil Chance devour me?

Ger. We’ll fly to what place you please.

Gos. No Star prosperous!  All at a swoop?

Ger. You do not love me Goswin?  You will not look upon me?

Gos. Can mens Prayers
Shot up to Heaven, with such a zeal as mine are,
Fall back like lazy mists, and never prosper? 
Jives I must wear, and cold must be my comfort;
Darkness, and want of meat; alas she weeps too,
Which is the top of all my sorrows, Gertrude.

Ger. No, no, you will not know me; my poor beauty, Which has been worth your eyes.

Gos. The time grows on still; And like a tumbling wave, I see my ruine Come rowling over me.

Ger. Yet will ye know me?

Gos. For a hundred thousand Crowns.

Ger. Yet will ye love me?  Tell me but how I have deserv’d your slighting?

Gos. For a hundred thousand Crowns?

Ger. Farewel Dissembler.

Gos. Of which I have scarce ten:  O how it starts me!

Ger. And may the next you love, hearing my ruine.

Gos. I had forgot my self, O my best Gertrude, Crown of my joys and comforts.

Ger. Sweet what ails ye?  I thought you had been vext with me.

Gos. My mind, Wench, My mind o’rflow’d with sorrow, sunk my memory.

Ger. Am I not worthy of the knowledge of it?  And cannot I as well affect your sorrows, As your delights? you love no other Woman?

Gos. No, I protest.

Ger. You have no ships lost lately?

Gos. None, that I know of.

Ger. I hope you have spilt no blood, whose innocence May lay this on your conscience.

Gos. Clear, by Heaven.

Ger. Why should you be thus then?

Gos. Good Gertrude ask not, Ev’n by the love you bear me.

Ger. I am obedient.

Gos. Go in, my fair, I will not be long from ye, Nor long I fear me with thee.  At my return Dispose me as you please.

Ger. The good gods guide ye. [Exit.

Gos. Now for my self, which is the least I hope for, And when that fails, for mans worst fortune, pity. [Exit.

ACTUS QUARTUS.  SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Goswin and 4.  Merchants.

Gos. Why gentlemen, ’tis but a week more, I intreat you
But 7. short days, I am not running from ye;
Nor, if you give me patience, is it possible
All my adventures fail; you have ships abroad
Endure the beating both of Wind and Weather: 
I am sure ’twould vex your hearts, to be protested;
Ye are all fair Merchants.