217Fri.Go to, I see thou art an envious man:

218Good Mistris Banister, kneel not to me,

219I pray rise up, you shall have your desire.

220Hold officers; be gone, there's for your pains,

221You know you owe to me a thousand pound,

222Here take my hand, if e're God make you able;

223And place you in your former state again,

224Pay me: but if still your fortune frown,

225Upon my faith I'le never ask you crown:

226I never yet did wrong to men in thrall,

227For God doth know what to my self may fall.

228Ban. This unexpected favour undeserved,

229Doth make my heart bleed inwardly with joy:

230Nere may ought prosper with me is my own,

231If I forget this kindness you have shown.

233For your good fortune and success shall pray.

234Fri. I thank you both, I pray go dine with me,

235Within these three dayes, if God give me leave,

236I will to Florence to my native home.

237Bagot, hold, there's a Portague to drink,

238Although you ill deserved it by your merit;

239Give not such cruel scope unto your heart;

240Be sure the ill you do will be requited:

241Remember what I say, Bagot, farewell.

242Come, Master Banister, you shall with me,

243My fare's but simple, but welcome heartily.

245Bag. A plague go with you, would you had eat your last,

246Is this the thanks I have for all my pains?

247Confusion light upon you all for me:

248Where he had wont to give a score of Crowns,

249Doth he now foyst me with a Portague:

250Well, I will be revenged upon this Banister.

251I'le to his Creditors, buy all the debts he owes,

252As seeming that I do it for good will,

253I am sure to have them at an easie rate;

254And when 'tis done, in Christendome he stayes not,

255But I'le make his heart t'ake with sorrow,

256And if that Banister become my debter,

257By heaven and earth I'le make his plague the greater.

260Cho. Now Gentlemen imagine, that young Cromwell is

261In Antwerp, Ledger for the English Merchants:

262And Banister to shun this Bagots hate,

263Hearing that he hath got some of his debts,

264Is fled to Antwerp, with his wife and children,

265Which Bagot hearing is gone after them:

266And thither sends his bills of debt before,

267To be revenged on wretched Banister,

268What doth fall out, with patience sit and see,

272Crom. Thus far my reckoning doth go straight & even.

273But, Cromwell, this same plodding sits not thee;

274Thy mind is altogether set on travel,

275And not to live thus cloystered, like a Nun;

276It is not this same trash, that I regard,

277Experience is the jewel of my heart.

279Post. I pray, sir, are you ready to dispatch me?

280Cro. Yes, here's those summes of money you must carry.

281You go so far as Frankford, do you not?

282Post. I do, sir.

283Crom. Well, prithee make all the hast thou can'st,

284For there be certain English Gentlemen

285Are bound for Venice, and may happily want,

286And if that you should linger by the way:

287But in hope that you will make good speed,

288There's two Angels to buy you spurrs and wands.

289Post. I thank you, sir, this will adde wings indeed.

290Crom. Gold is of power to make an Eagles speed.

292What Gentlewoman is this, that grieves so much?

293It seems she doth addresse her self to me.

294Mi. Ban. God save you, sir, pray is your name Master

295 Cromwell?

296Crom. My name is Thomas Cromwell, Gentlewoman.

297Mi. Ban. Know you not one Bagot, sir, that's come to

298 Antwerp?

299Crom. No, trust me, I never saw the man,

300But here are bills of debt I have received

301Against one Banister a Merchant fallen into decay.

302Mi. Ba. Into decay indeed, long of that wretch:

303I am the wife to wofull Banister,

304And by that bloudy villain am pursu'd,

305From London, here to Antwerp:

306My husband he is in the Governors hands,

307And God of heaven knows how he'll deal with him,

308Now, sir, your heart is framed of milder temper,

309Be mercifull to a distressed soul,

310And God no boubt will treble blesse your gain.

311Crom. Good Mistris Banister, what I can, I will,

312In any thing that lies within my power.

313Mi. Ban. O speak to Bagot, that same wicked wretch,

314An Angels voice may move a damned devil.

315Crom. Why is he come to Antwerp, as you hear?

316Mi. Ban. I heard he landed some two hours since.

317Crom. Well, Mistris Banister, assure your self,

318I'le speak to Bagot in your own behalf,

319And win him t'all the pitty that I can:

320Mean time, to comfort you, in your distresse,

321Receive these Angels to relieve your need,

322And be assured, that what I can effect:

323To do you good, no way I will neglect.

325Keep you from trouble, sorrow, grief and smart.

327Crom. Thanks, curteous woman,

328For thy hearty prayer:

329It grieves my soul to see her misery,

330But we that live under the work of fate,

331May hope the best, yet knows not to what state

332Our starrs and destinies hath us assign'd,

333Fickle is Fortune, and her face is blind,

335Bag. So all goes well, it is as I would have it,

336Banister, he is with the Governor:

337And shortly shall have gyves upon his heels.

338It glads my heart to think upon the slave;

339I hope to have his body rot in prison,

340And after here, his wife to hang her self,

341And all his children die for want of food.

342The Jewels I have brought to Antwerp