ess, and want of meat; alas she weeps too,
Which is the top of all my sorrows, _Gertrude_.

_Ger._ No, no, you will not know me; my poor beauty,
Which has been worth your eyes.

_Gos._ The time grows on still;
And like a tumbling wave, I see my ruine
Come rowling over me.

_Ger._ Yet will ye know me?

_Gos._ For a hundred thousand Crowns.

_Ger._ Yet will ye love me?
Tell me but how I have deserv'd your slighting?

_Gos._ For a hundred thousand Crowns?

_Ger._ Farewel Dissembler.

_Gos._ Of which I have scarce ten: O how it starts me!

_Ger._ And may the next you love, hearing my ruine.

_Gos._ I had forgot my self, O my best _Gertrude_,
Crown of my joys and comforts.

_Ger._ Sweet what ails ye?
I thought you had been vext with me.

_Gos._ My mind, Wench,
My mind o'rflow'd with sorrow, sunk my memory.

_Ger._ Am I not worthy of the knowledge of it?
And cannot I as well affect your sorrows,
As your delights? you love no other Woman?

_Gos._ No, I protest.

_Ger._ You have no ships lost lately?

_Gos._ None, that I know of.

_Ger._ I hope you have spilt no blood, whose innocence
May lay this on your conscience.

_Gos._ Clear, by Heaven.

_Ger._ Why should you be thus then?

_Gos._ Good _Gertrude_ ask not,
Ev'n by the love you bear me.

_Ger._ I am obedient.

_Gos._ Go in, my fair, I will not be long from ye,
Nor long I fear me with thee. At my return
Dispose me as you please.

_Ger._ The good gods guide ye.
[_Exit._

_Gos._ Now for my self, which is the least I hope for,
And when that fails, for mans worst fortune, pity. [_Exit._

_ACTUS QUARTUS. SCENA PRIMA._

_Enter_ Goswin _and_ 4. Merchants.

_Gos._ Why gentlemen, 'tis but a week more, I intreat you
But 7. short days, I am not running from ye;
Nor, if you give me patience, is it possible
All my adventures fail; you have ships abroad
Endure the beating both of Wind and Weather:
I am sure 'twould vex your hearts, to be protested;
Ye are all fair Merchants.

_1 Mer._ Yes, and must have fair play:
There is no living here else; one hour's failing
Fails us of all our friends, of all our credits:
For my part, I would stay, but my wants tell me,
I must wrong others in't.

_Gos._ No mercy in ye!

_2 Mer._ 'Tis foolish to depend on others mercy:
Keep your self right, and even cut your cloth, Sir,
According to your calling, you have liv'd here,
In Lord-like Prodigality, high, and open,
And now ye find what 'tis: th