_Mer_. Your welcome, neighbour, you are welcome, sir; I praie sit downe, your verie welcome both. _Beech_. We thanke you for it, and we thinke no lesse. Now fill two cans of your ould strongest beare; That make so manie loose their little wits, And make indentures as they go along. _Mer_. Hoe, sister _Rachell_! _Rach_. I come presently, _Enter Rachell_. _Mer_. Goe draw these gentlemen two cans of beare. Your negligence that cannot tend the shop, Will make our customers forsake the house. Wheres _Harry Williams_ that he staies not here? _Rach_. My selfe was busie dressing up the house: As for your man he is not verie well, But sitteth sleeping by the kitchen fier. _Mer_. If you are busie, get you up againe; [_Exit_. Ile draw my neighbours then their drinke my selfe, Ile warrant you as good as any mans,-- And yet no better; many have the like. [_Exit for Beare_. _Neigh_. This showes him for a plain and honest man, That will not flatter with too many wordes; Some shriltong'd fellowes would have cogd and faind, Saying, ile draw the best in Christendome. _Beech_. Hees none of those, but beares an honest minde, And shames to utter what he cannot prove. _Enter Merry_. But here he comes: is that the best you have? _Mer_. It is the best upon mine honest worde. _Beech_. Then drinke to us. _Mer_. I drinke unto you both. _Nei_. _Beech_. We pledge you both, and thanke you hartelie. _Beech_. Heres to you sir. _Neigh_. I thank you. [_Maister Beech drinkes; drinke Neighbour_. _Neigh_. Tis good indeed and I had rather drinke Such beare as this as any _Gascoine_ Wine: But tis our _English_ manner to affect Strange things, and price them at a greater rate, Then home-bred things of better consequence. _Mer_. Tis true indeede; if all were of your mind, My poore estate would sooner be advanc'd, And our French Marchants seeke some other trade. _Beech_. Your poore estate! nay, neighbour, say not so, For God be thanked you are well to live. _Mer_. Not so good neighbour, but a poore young man, That would live better if I had the meanes: But as I am I can content myselfe, Till God amend my poore abilitie. _Neigh_. In time no doubt; why, man, you are but young, And God, assure your selfe, hath wealth in store, If you awaight his will with patience. _Beech_. Thankes be to God I live contentedlie, And yet I cannot boast of mightie wealth: But yet Gods blessings have beene infinit, And farre beyond my expectations. My shop is stor'd, I am not much in debt; And here I speake it where I may be bold, I have a score of poundes to helpe my neede, If God should stretch his hand to visit me With sicknesse or such like adversity. _Neigh_. Enough for this; now, neighbour, whats to pay? _Mer_. Two pence, good sir. _Beech_. Nay, pray, sir, forbeare; Ile pay this reckoning, for it is but small.