Ser.

Who knocks? Who's at door? We had need of a porter.

Pye. [Within.]

A few friends here. Pray is the gentleman your master within?

Ser.

Yes; is your business to him?

Pye.

Ay, he knows it, when he sees me: I pray you, have you forgot me?

Ser.

Ay by my troth, sir; pray come near; I'll in and tell him of you. Please you to walk here in the gallery till he comes.

Pye.

We will attend his worship. Worship, I think; for so much the posts at his door should signify^{4 note}

Rav.

'Troth, prisoner, an exceeding fine house.

Pye.

Yet I wonder how he should forget me,—for he never knew me. [Aside.] No matter; what is forgot in you, will be remember'd in your master^{6 note}. A pretty comfortable room this, methinks: you have no such rooms in prison now?

Put.

O, dog-holes to't.

Pye.

Dog-holes, indeed. I can tell you, I have great hope to have my chamber here shortly, nay, and diet too; for he's the most free-heartedst gentleman, where he takes: you would little think it. And what a fine gallery were here for me to walk and study and make verses?

Put.

O, it stands very pleasantly for a scholar.

Pye.

Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and things, neatly, delicately^{7 note}

Gent.

You're kindly welcome, sir.

Put.

A simple salutation.

Rav.

Mass, it seems the gentleman makes great account of him.

Pye.

I have the thing here for you, sir—[Takes the gentleman apart.] I beseech you, conceal me, sir; I'm undone else. [Aside.] I have the mask here for you, sir; look you, sir. I beseech your worship, first pardon my rudeness, for my extremes make me bolder than I would be. I am a poor gentleman, and

a scholar, and now most unfortunately fallen into the fangs of unmerciful officers; arrested for debt, which though small, I am not able to compass, by reason I am destitute of lands, money, and friends; so that if I fall into the hungry swallow of the prison, I am like utterly to perish, and with fees and extortions be pinch'd clean to the bone. Now, if ever pity had interest in the blood of a gentleman, I beseech you vouchsafe but to favour that means of my escape, which I have already thought upon.

Gent.

Go forward.

Put.

I warrant he likes it rarely.

Pye.

In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy, and doubtful what to do, at last it was put into my labouring thoughts, to make a happy use of this paper; and to blear their unletter'd eyes, I told them there was a device for a mask drawn in't, and that (but for their interception) I was going to a gentleman to receive my reward for't. They, greedy at this word, and hoping to make purchase of me^{8 note}, offer'd their attendance to go along with me. My hap was to make bold with your door, sir, which my thoughts show'd me the most fairest and comfortablest entrance; and I hope I have happened right upon understanding and pity. May it please your good worship then, but to uphold my device, which is to let one of your men put me out at a back-door, and I shall be bound to your worship for ever.

Gent.

By my troth, an excellent device.

Put.

An excellent device, he says; he likes it wonderfully.

Gent.

O' my faith, I never heard a better.

Rav.

Hark, he swears he never heard a better, serjeant.

Put.

O, there's no talk on't^{9 note}; he's an excellent scholar, and especially for a mask^{1 note}

Gent.

Give me your paper, your device; I was never better pleas'd in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely wrought! Come in, sir, and receive your money, sir.

Pye.

I'll follow your good worship.—You heard how he lik'd it now?

Put.

Puh, we know he could not choose but like it. Go thy ways; thou art a witty fine fellow i'faith: thou shalt discourse it to us at the tavern anon; wilt thou?

Pye.

Ay, ay, that I will. Look, serjeant, here are maps, and pretty toys: be doing in the mean time; I shall quickly have told out the money, you know.

Put.

Go, go, little villain; fetch thy chink; I begin to love thee: I'll be drunk to night in thy company.

Pye.
This gentleman I well may call a part
Of my salvation in these earthly evils,
For he has sav'd me from three hungry devils. [Exit Pyeboard.

Put.

Sirrah serjeant, these maps are pretty painted things, but I could ne'er fancy them yet: methinks they're too busy, and full of circles and conjurations. They say all the world's in one of them; but I could ne'er find the Counter in the Poultry^{2 note}.

Rav.

I think so: how could you find it? for you know it stands behind the houses.

Dog.

Mass, that's true; then we must look o'the back-side for't. 'Sfoot here's nothing; all's bare.

Rav.

I warrant thee, that stands for the Counter; for you know there's a company of bare fellows there.

Put.

'Faith like enough, serjeant; I never mark'd so much before. Sirrah serjeant, and yeoman, I should love these maps out o' cry now9Q1368^{3 note}, if we could see men peep out of door in 'em. O, we might have 'em in a morning to our breakfast so finely, and ne'er knock our heels to the ground a whole day for 'em.

Rav.

Ay marry sir, I'd buy one then myself. But this talk is by the way.—Where shall us sup to-night? Five pound receiv'd—let's talk of that. I have a trick worth all. You two shall bear him to the tavern, whilst I go close with his hostess, and work out of her. I know she would be glad of the sum, to finger money, because she knows 'tis but a desperate debt, and full of hazard. What will you say, if I bring it to pass that the hostess shall be contented with one half for all, and we to share t'other fifty shillings, bullies?

Put.

Why, I would call thee king of serjeants, and

thou should'st be chronicled in the Counter-book for ever.

Rav.

Well, put it to me; we'll make a night on't, i'faith.

Dog.

'Sfoot, I think he receives more money, he stays so long.

Put.

He tarries long indeed. May be I can tell you, upon the good liking on't, the gentleman may prove more bountiful.

Rav.

That would be rare; we'll search him.

Put.

Nay, be sure of it, we'll search him, and make him light enough.

Rav.

O, here comes the gentleman. By your leave, sir.

Gent.

God you good den, sirs^{4 note}

Put.

No, not with your worship, sir; only we are bold to stay for a friend of our's that went in with your worship.

Gent.

Who? not the scholar?

Put.

Yes, e'en he, an it please your worship.

Gent.

Did he make you stay for him? He did you wrong then: why, I can assure you he's gone above an hour ago^{5 note}.

Rav.

How, sir?

Gent.

I paid him his money, and my man told me he went out at back-door.

Put.

Back-door?

Gent.

Why, what's the matter?

Put.

He was our prisoner, sir; we did arrest him.

Gent.

What! he was not?—You the sheriff's officers! You were to blame then. Why did not you make known to me as much? I could have kept him for you. I protest, he receiv'd all of me in Britain gold of the last coining^{6 note}.

Rav.

Vengeance dog him with't!

Put.

'Sfoot, has he gull'd us so?

Dog.

Where shall we sup now, serjeants?

Put.

Sup, Simon, now^{7 note}! eat porridge for a month.—Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in your worship. You did but as another would have done. 'Twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase;—but if e'er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.

Rav.

The Hole shall rot him^{8 note}

Dog.

Amen.

Gent.
So;
Vex out your lungs without doors. I am proud
It was my hap to help him. It fell fit;
He went not empty neither for his wit.
Alas, poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,
To labour his delivery, to be free
From their unpitying fangs. I'm glad it stood
Within my power to do a scholar good. [Exit.

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