de my Dutches, there it goes;
And marrying her, I marry thousand woes.--
Adiew, kind Mistresse;--the next newes you heare
Is to sit crown'd in an Imperiall chair.[185]

_Valen_. Either the man dislikes me, or his braine
Is not his owne, to give such gifts in vaine,
But 'tis the custome in this age to cast
Gold upon gold, to encourage men to waste.
Lightly it comes, and it shall lightly flie;
Whilst colours hold, such presents cannot die.

[_Exeunt omnes_.[186]

[SCENE 3.]

_Enter Reinaldo, Alfred, and Albert_.

_Alb_. But this is strange, that I should meet your[187] honour
So farre from Court; pray whither were you riding?

_Alf_. Unto your mannor; heard you not the newes?

_Alb_. What newes?

_Alf_. This morning, by the breake of day,
His excellence sent to me by a post
Letters, by which the pillars of the state
Should be assembled to a Parliament,
Which he intends, my Lords, to hold in _Meath_.

_Alb_. When, if it please your honor?

_Alf_. Instantly,
With all the haste that winged time can make.

_Albert_. Sooner the better; tis like the realmes affaires
Are of some weight.

_Alb_. I will bee there to night,
And so I take my leave.

_Reinal_. We take our leaves.

[_Exit Albert and Reinaldo_.

_Alf_. Farewell, my honor'd friend.--
There is within my braine a thousand wiles
How I may heape up riches; O the sight,
Of a gold shining Mountaine doth exceede:
Silver is good, but in respect of gold
Thus I esteeme it.

[_Exit_.

[SCENE 4.]

_Enter Hatto, with three petitioners_.

_Hat_. How now, my friends, what are you?

1. Poore petitioners.

_Hat_. Stand farther then, the poore is as unpleasing
Unto me as the plague.

2. An't please your good Lordship, I am a Merchant, and gladly would
convay a thousand quarters of wheate and other graine over the sea; and
heres a hundred pounds for a commission.

_Hat_. Thou art no beggar, thou shalt ha't, my friend;
Give me thy money.

3. I, an't please your honour, have a commoditie of good broad cloth,
not past two hundred; may I shippe them over? and theres a hundred
poundes.

_Hat_. Thou shalt have leave.

1. Although I seeme a poore petitioner,
My Lord, I crave a warrant to transport[188]
A hundred Cannons, fiftie Culverings,
With some slight armours, halberts, and halfe pikes;
And theres as much as any of the rest.

_Hat_. Away, _Cannibal