our wants,
Not as a stranger's: and I know not how,
What you call'd charity, I thought the payment
Of some religious debt, nature stood bound for;
And last of all, when your magnificent bounty
In my low ebb of fortune, had brought in
A flood of blessings, though my threatning wants
And fear of their effects, still kept me stupid,
I soon found out, it was no common pity
That led you to it.

_Ger._ Think of this hereafter
When we with joy may call it to remembrance,
There will be a time, more opportune, than now
To end our story, with all circumstances,
I add this only: when we fled from _Wolfort_
I sent you into _England_, and there placed you
With a brave _Flanders_ Merchant, call'd rich _Goswin_,
A man supplyed by me unto that purpose,
As bound by oath never to discover you,
Who dying, left his name and wealth unto you
As his reputed Son, and yet receiv'd so;
But now, as _Florez_, and a Prince, remember
The countreys, and the subjects general good
Must challenge the first part in your affection:
The fair maid, whom you chose to be your wife,
Being so far beneath you, that your love
Must grant she's not your equal.

_Flo._ In descent
Or borrowed glories from dead Ancestors,
But for her beauty, chastity, and all vertues
Ever remembred in the best of women,
A Monarch might receive from her, not give,
Though she were his Crowns purchase; in this only
Be an indulgent Father: in all else,
Use your authority.

_Enter_ Hubert, Hemskirk, Wolfort,
Bertha, _and_ Souldiers.

_Hub._ Sir, here be two of 'em,
The Father and the Son, the rest you shall have
As fast as I can rouze them.

_Ger._ Who's this? _Wolfort_?

_Wol._ I Criple, your feigned crutches will not help you,
Nor patch'd disguise that hath so long conceal'd you,
It's now no halting: I must here find _Gerrard_,
And in this Merchants habit, one call'd _Florez_
Who would be an Earl.

_Ger._ And is, wert thou a subject.

_Flo._ Is this that Traitor _Wolfort_?

_Wol._ Yes, but you
Are they that are betrai'd: _Hemskirk_.

_Ber._ My _Goswin_
Turn'd Prince? O I am poorer by this greatness,
Than all my former jealousies or misfortunes.

_Florez._ _Gertrude_?

_Wol._ Stay Sir, you were to day too near her,
You must no more aim at those easie accesses,
Less you can do't in air, without a head,
Which shall be suddenly tri'd.

_Ber._ O take my heart, first,
And since I cannot hope now to enjoy him,
Let me but fall a part of his glad ransom.

_Wo