_Gripus_. These are the fishermen and I the fishe catcht in the nett; well my comfort is, thoughe my booty have made me no ritcher then I was, poorer then I am I canott bee. Nowe[136] wherein is the ritche more happy then the poore? I thinke rather lesse blessed and that shall approue by this excellent good ballet, thoughe sett to a scurvy tune. Lett ech man speake as he's possest I hold the poore man's state most blest. For if longe lyfe contentment bredes, In that the poore the ritche exceedes; The ritch man's dayes are short, as spent In pleasures and supposed content; Whylst to us poore men care and troble Makes every hower wee wast seeme duble. He that hathe ech daye to his backe Chandge of gaye suites, whylst wee alacke Have but one coate, that coorse and ould, Yet it defends us from the could; As warme too in an equll eye As they in all theere purple dye; 'Mongst all theere store, they weare, we see, But one at once, and so do wee. The ritche that at his table feasts With choyse of dayntyes, sundry guests, In all his plenty can but fill One belly; so the poore can still With cheese and onions and disguest[137] As well with them as th'others feast. The pesent with his homespoon lasse As many merry howers may passe As coortiers with there sattin guerles, Though ritchly dect in gould and pearles; And, though but pleyne, to purpose wooe, Nay ofttymes with lesse danger too. And yet for all this I have one crotchett left in my fate to bate a new hooke for the gold in the portmanteau. [_Exit_. _Actus 4to_. SCENA 3A. _Enter Dennis with the Fryar from aboue upon his backe_. _Den_. Whether a knavishe or a sinneful load, Or one or bothe I know not; massye it is, And if no frend will for mee,[138] I'l bee sorry For myne owne heavinesse. And heare's a place, Though neather of the secretest nor the best, To unlade myself of this Iniquity. When I satt late astryde upon the wall, To lyft the ladder this waye for descent, Mee thought the fryar lookt lyke S _George_ a horsback And I his trusty steede. But nowes no triflynge: Hee's[139] where hee is in Comons, wee discharged, Boathe of suspect and murther; which lett the covent To-morrowe morninge answere howe they cann. I'I backe the waye wee came; what's doon, none sawe I'th howse nor herde; they answer then the Lawyer. [_Exit_. _Enter Fryar Richard_.