3471. God help, God help, there's law for punishing,

348But there's no law for our necessity:

349There be more stocks to set poor soldiers in,

350Than there be houses to relieve them at.

351Old Man. I, house-keeping decayes in every place,

352Even as S. Peter writ, still worse and worse.

3532. Master Mayor of Rochester has given command,

354That none shall go abroad out of the parish, and has set

355down an Order forsooth, what every poor housholder

356must give for our relief: where there be some ceased (I

357may say to you) had almost as much need to beg as we.

3581. It is a hard world the while.

359Old. If a poor man ask at door for God's sake, they

360ask him for a licence or a certificate from a Justice.

3612. Faith we have none, but what we bear upon our

362bodies, our maim'd limbs, God help us.

3634. And yet as lame as I am, I'le with the King into

364France, if I can but crawl a ship-board, I had rather be

365slain in France, than starve in England.

366Old. Ha, were I but as lusty as I was at Shrewsbury

367battle, I would not do as I do: but we are now come to

368the good Lord Cobham's house, the best man to the poor

369in all Kent.

3704. God bless him, there be but few such.

373Har. This pride, this pride, brings all to beggery,

374I serv'd your Father, and your Grandfather,

375Shew me such two men now: No, no,

376Your backs, your backs; the devil and pride

377Has cut the throat of all good house-keeping,

378They were the best Yeomens Masters that

379Ever were in England.

380Cob. Yea, except thou have a crew of filthy knaves

381And sturdy Rogues still feeding at my Gate,

382There is no hospitality with thee.

383HarpThey may sit at the gate well enough, but the

384devil of anything you give them, except they'll eat stones.

385Cob. 'Tis long then of such hungry knaves as you:

386Yea sir, here's your retinue, your guests be come,

387They know their hours, I warrant you.

388Old. God bless your honour, God save the good Lord

389Cobham, and all his house.

390Soul. Good your honour, bestow your blessed almes

391Upon poor men.

392Cob. Now sir, here be your almes Knights:

393Now are you as safe as the Emperour.

394Harp. My almes Knights? Nay th'are yours:

395It is a shame for you, and I'le stand to't,

396Your foolish almes maintains more vagabonds

397Then all the Noblemen in Kent beside.

398Out you rogues, you knaves, work for your livings.

399Alas poor men, they may beg their hearts out,

400There's no more charity among men

401Then amongst so many Mastive dogs,

402What make you here, you needy knaves?

403Away, away, you villains.

4042. Soul. I beseech you sir, be good.

405Cob. Nay, nay, they know thee well enough, I

406think that all the beggers in this land are thy acquain-

407tance: go bestow your almes, none will controll you, sir.

408Harp. What should I give them? you are grown so

409beggarly, that you can scarce give a bit of bread at your

410door: you talk of your Religion so long, that you have

411banished charity from you: a man may make a Flax-shop

412in your Kitching chimnies, for any fire there is stirring.

413Cob. If thou wilt give them nothing, send them hence:

414Let them not stand here starving in the cold.

415Har. Who, I drive them hence? If I drive poor men

416from the door, I'le be hang'd: I know not what I may

417come to my self: God help ye poor knaves, ye see the

418world. Well, you had a mother: O God be with thee

419good Lady, thy soul's at rest; she gave more in shirts and

420smocks to poor children, then you spend in your house,

421and yet you live a beggar too.

422Cob. Even the worst deed that ever my mother did,

423was in relieving such a fool as thou.

424Har. I, I am a fool still: with all your wit you'll die

425a beggar, go too.

426Cob. Go, you old fool, give thee poor people some-

427thing: Go in poor men into the inner Court, and take

428such almes as there is to be had,

429Soul. God blesse your Honour.

430Har. Hang you rogues, hang you, there's nothing but

432Oldm. God blesse you good Master Rafe, God save

433your life, you are good to thee poor still.

435Cob. What fellow's yonder comes along the Grove?

436Few passengers there be that know this way:

437Me thinks he stops as though he staid for me,

438And meant to shrow'd himself amongst the bushes.

439I know the Clergy hates me to the death,

440And my Religion gets me many foes:

441And this may be some desperate rogue

442Suborn'd to work me mischief: as it pleaseth God.

443If he come toward me, sure I'le stay his coming,

445I have been well acquainted with that face.

446Pow. Well met, my honorable Lord and friend.

447Cob. You are welcome, sir, what ere you be;

448But of this sudden, sir, I do not know you.

449Pow. I am one that wisheth well unto your Honour,

450My name is Powis, an old friend of yours.

451Cob. My honorable Lord, and worthy friend,

452What makes your Lordship thus alone in Kent,

453And thus disguised in this strange attire?

454Pow. My Lord, an unexpected accident

455Hath at this time enforc'd me to these parts,

456And thus it hapt. Not yet full five dayes since,

457Now at the last assize at Hereford,

458It chanc'd that the Lord Herbert and my self,

459'Mongst other things discoursing at the Table,

460To fall in speech about some certain points

461Of Wickliff's doctrine 'gainst the Papacie,

462And the Religion Catholick maintain'd

463Through the most part of Europe at this day.

464This wilfull testy Lord stuck not to say,

465That Wickliff was a knave, a schismatick,

466His Doctrine develish and Heretical:

467And whatsoere he was maintain'd the same,

468Was Traitor both to God, and to his Countrey.

469Being moved at his peremptory speech,

470I told him, some maintain'd those opinions,

471Men, and truer subjects then Lord Herbert was:

472And he replying in comparisons,

473Your name was urg'd, my Lord, against this challenge,

474To be a perfect favorour of the truth.

475And to be short, from words we fell to blows,

476Our servants, and our Tenants taking parts.

477Many on both sides hurt: and for an hour

478The broil by no means could be pacified,

479Untill the Judges rising from the bench,

480Were in their persons forc'd to part the fray.

481Cob. I hope no man was violently slain.

482Pow. Faith none I trust, but the Lord Herberts self,

483Who is in truth so dangerously hurt,

484As it is doubted he can hardly scape.

485Cob. I am sorry, my good Lord, of these ill news.

486Pow. This is the cause that drives me into Kent,

487To shrowd my self with you so good a friend,

488Untill I hear how things do speed at home.

489Cob. Your Lordship is most welcome unto Cobham:

490But I am very sorry, my good Lord,

491My name was brought in question in this matter,

492Considering I have many enemies,

493That threaten malice, and do lye in wait

494To take the vantage of the smallest thing.

495But you are welcome, and repose your Lordship,

496And keep your self here secret in my house,

497Untill we hear how the Lord Herbert speeds:

499Here comes my man: sirrah, what news?

500Har. Yonder's one M. Butler of the privie Chamber,

501is sent unto you from the King.

502Pow. Pray God the Lord Herbert be not dead, and

503the King hearing whether I am gone, hath sent for me.

504Cob. Comfort your self, my Lord, I warrant you,

505Har. Fellow, what ayls thee? do'st thou quake? do'st

506thou shake? do'st thou tremble? ha?

507Cob. Peace, you old fool: sirrah, convey this Gentleman

508in the back way, and bring the other into the walk.

509Har. Come, sir, y'are welcome, if you love my Lord.

511Cob. I thought as much, that it would not be long before

512I heard of something from the King, about this matter.

514Har. Sir, yonder my Lord walks, you see him;

515I'le have your men into the seller the while.

516Cob. Welcome, good M. Butler.

517But.Thanks, my good Lord: his Majesty doth com-

518mend his love unto your Lordship, and wills you to repair

519unto the Court.

520Cob. God bless his Highness, and counfound his ene-

521mies, I hope his Majestie is well?

522But. In good health, my Lord.

523Cob. God long continue it: me thinks you look as

524though you were not well, what ayle ye, sir?

525But. Faith I have had a foolish odde mischance, that

526angers me: coming over Shooters hill, there came one

527to me like a Sailor, and askt me money; and whilst I

528staid my horse to draw my purse, he takes th'advantage

529of a little bank, and leaps behind me, whips my purse a-

530way, and with a sudden jerk, I know not how, threw me

531at least three yards out of my saddle; I never was so rob'd

532in all my life.

533Cob. I am very sorry, sir, for your mischance; we will

534send our warrant forth, to stay such suspitious persons

535as shall be found, they M. Butler we'll attend you.

536But. I humbly thank your Lordship, I will att

end you.