I cannot,
Nor am I made to creep in at a window,
To filch to feed me, something must be done,
And suddenly resolve on't.

_Enter_ Zabulon _and a Servant_.

_Arn_. What are these?

_Rut_. One by his habit is a _Jew_.

_Zab_. No more:
Thou art sure that's he.

_Ser_. Most certain.

_Zab_. How long is it
Since first she saw him?

_Ser_. Some two hours.

_Zab_. Be gone--let me alone to work him. [_Exit_ Ser.

_Rut_. How he eyes you!
Now he moves towards us, in the Devils name
What would he with us?

_Arn_. Innocence is bold:
Nor can I fear.

_Zab_. That you are poor and strangers,
I easily perceive.

_Rut_. But that you'l help us,
Or any of your tribe, we dare not hope Sir.

_Zab_. Why think you so?

_Rut_. Because you are a _Jew_ Sir,
And courtesies come sooner from the Devil
Than any of your Nation.

_Zab_. We are men,
And have like you, compassion when we find
Fit subjects for our bounty, and for proof
That we dare give, and freely, not to you Sir,
Pray spare your pains, there's gold, stand not amaz'd,
'Tis current I assure you.

_Rut_. Take it man,
Sure thy good Angel is a _Jew_, and comes
In his own shape to help thee: I could wish now
Mine would appear too like a _Turk_.

_Arn_. I thank you,
But yet must tell you, if this be the Prologue
To any bad act, you would have me practise,
I must not take it.

_Zab_. This is but the earnest
Of [t]hat which is to follow, and the bond
Which you must seal to for't, is your advancement,
Fortune with all that's in her power to give,
Offers her self up to you: entertain her,
And that which Princes have kneel'd for in vain
Presents it self to you.

_Arn_. 'Tis above wonder.

_Zab_. But far beneath the truth, in my relation
Of what you shall possess, if you emb[r]ace it.
There is an hour in each mans life appointed
To make his happiness if then he seize it,
And this, (in which, beyond all expectation,
You are invited to your good) is yours,
If you dare follow me, so, if not, hereafter
Expect not the like offer. [_Exit_.

_Arn_. 'Tis no vision.

_Rut_. 'Tis gold I'm sure.

_Arn_. We must like brothers share;
There's for you.

_Rut_. By this light I'm glad I have it:
There are few Gallants, (for men may be such
And yet want gold, yea and sometimes silver)
But would receive such favours from the Devil,
Though he appear'd like a Broker, and demanded
Sixty i'th' hundred.

_Arn_. Wherefore should I fear
Some plot upon my life?