Hodge.

Call you this seeing of fashions? marry would I had staid at Putney still. O, master Thomas, we are spoil'd, we are gone.

Crom.

Content thee, man; this is but fortune.

Hodge.

Fortune! a plague of this fortune, it makes me go wet-shod; the rogues would not leave me a shoe to my feet.

For my hose,
They scorn'd them with their heels:
But for my doublet and hat,
O Lord, they embrac'd me,
And unlac'd me,
And took away my cloaths,
And so disgrac'd me.

Crom.

Well, Hodge, what remedy? What shift shall we make now?

Hodge.

Nay I know not. For begging I am naught; for stealing worse. By my troth, I must even fall to my old trade, to the hammer and the horse-heels again:—But now the worst is, I am not acquainted with the humour of the horses in this country; whether they are not coltish, given much to kicking, or no: for when I have one leg in my

hand, if he should up and lay t'other on my chaps, I were gone; there lay I, there lay Hodge.

Crom.

Hodge, I believe thou must work for us both.

Hodge.

O, master Thomas, have not I told you of this? Have not I many a time and often said, Tom, or master Thomas, learn to make a horse-shoe, it will be your own another day: this was not regarded.— Hark you, Thomas! what do you call the fellows that robb'd us?

Crom.

The banditti.

Hodge.

The banditti do you call them? I know not what they are call'd here, but I am sure we call them plain thieves in England. O, Tom, that we were now at Putney, at the ale there^{6 note}!

Crom.
Content thee, man: here set up these two bills,
And let us keep our standing on the bridge.
The fashion of this country is such,
If any stranger be oppress'd with want,
To write the manner of his misery;
And such as are dispos'd to succour him, [Hodge sets up the bills.
Will do it. What, Hodge, hast thou set them up?

Hodge.

Ay, they are up; God send some to read them^{7 note}


, and not only to read them, but also to look on us: and not altogether look on us, but to relieve us. O, cold, cold, cold!

Enter Frescobald.

Fres. [reads the bills.]
What's here?
Two Englishmen, and robb'd by the banditti!
One of them seems to be a gentleman.
'Tis pity that his fortune was so hard,
To fall into the desperate hands of thieves:
I'll question him of what estate he is.
God save you, sir. Are you an Englishman?

Crom.

I am, sir, a distressed Englishman.

Fres.

And what are you, my friend?

Hodge.

Who, I sir? by my troth I do not know myself, what I am now; but, sir, I was a smith, sir, a poor farrier of Putney. That's my master, sir, yonder; I was robb'd for his sake, sir.

Fres.
I see you have been met by the banditti,
And therefore need not ask how you came thus.
But Frescobald, why dost thou question them
Of their estate, and not relieve their need?
Sir, the coin I have about me is not much:
There's sixteen ducats for to clothe yourselves,
There's sixteen more to buy your diet with,
And there's sixteen to pay for your horse-hire.
'Tis all the wealth, you see, my purse possesses;
But if you please for to enquire me out,
You shall not want for aught that I can do.
My name is Frescobald, a Florence merchant,
A man that always lov'd your nation.

Crom.
This unexpected favour at your hands,
Which God doth know, if e'er I shall requite—
Necessity makes me to take your bounty,
And for your gold can yield you nought but thanks.
Your charity hath help'd me from despair;
Your name shall still be in my hearty prayer.

Fres.
It is not worth such thanks: come to my house;
Your want shall better be reliev'd than thus.

Crom.
I pray, excuse me; this shall well suffice,
To bear my charges to Bononia,
Whereas a noble earl is much distress'd^{8 note}

.
An Englishman, Russel the earl of Bedford,
Is by the French king sold unto his death.
It may fall out, that I may do him good;
To save his life, I'll hazard my heart-blood.
Therefore, kind sir, thanks for your liberal gift;
I must be gone to aid him; there's no shift.

Fres.
I'll be no hinderer to so good an act.
Heaven prosper you in that you go about!
If fortune bring you this way back again,
Pray let me see you: so I take my leave;
All good a man can wish, I do bequeath. [Exit Frescobald.

Crom.
All good that God doth send, light on your head!
There's few such men within our climate bred.
How say you Hodge? is not this good fortune?

Hodge.

How say you? I'll tell you what, master Thomas; if all men be of this gentleman's mind, let's keep our standings upon this bridge; we shall get more here, with begging in one day, than I shall with making horse-shoes in a whole year.

Crom.
No, Hodge, we must be gone unto Bononia,
There to relieve the noble earl of Bedford:
Where, if I fail not in my policy,
I shall deceive their subtle treachery.

Hodge.

Nay, I'll follow you. God bless us from the thieving banditti again.

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