MERCATORE. A, gooda my friend, do axe-a me no shush a question, For he dat will live in the world must be of the world sure; And de world will love his own, so long as the world endure. DISSIMULATION. I commend your wit, sir; but here comes my lady. _Enter_ LUCRE. MERCATORE. Come hither: here's to tree crowns for de speak me. DISSIMULATION. Well, sir, I thank you: I will go speak for you. LUCRE. Master Davy Dissimulation, what new acquaintance have ye gotten there? DISSIMULATION. Such a one, madam, that unto your state hath great care; And surely in my mind the gentleman is worthy To be well-thought on for his liberality, bounty, and great care to seek ye. LUCRE. Gentleman, you are heartily welcome: how are you called, I pray you tell us? MERCATORE. Madonna, me be a mershant, and be call'd Signer Mercatore. LUCRE. But, I pray you, tell me what countryman? MERCATORE. Me be, Madonna, an Italian. LUCRE. Yet let me trouble ye: I beseech ye whence came ye? MERCATORE. For salva vostra buona grazia,[167] me come from Turkey. LUCRE. Gramercy: but Signor Mercatore, dare you not to undertake Secretly to convey good commodities out of this country for my sake? MERCATORE. Madonna, me do for love of you tink no pain too mush, And to do anyting for you me will not grush: Me will a forsake a my fader, moder, king, country, and more dan dat; Me will lie and forswear meself for a quarter so much as my hat. What is dat for love of Lucre me dare, or will not do? Me care not for all the world, the great devil, nay, make my God angry for you. LUCRE. You say well, Mercatore; yet Lucre by this is not thoroughly won: But give ear, and I will show what by thee must be done. Thou must carry over wheat, pease, barley, oats, and vetches, and all kind of grain, Which is well sold beyond sea, and bring such merchants great gain. Then thou must carry beside leather, tallow, beef, bacon, bell-metal and everything, And for these good commodities trifles into England thou must bring; As bugles to make bables, coloured bones, glass beads to make bracelets withal, For every day gentlewomen of England do ask for such trifles from stall to stall: And you must bring more, as amber, jet, coral, crystal, and every such babble, That is slight, pretty and pleasant: they care not to have it profitable. And if they demand wherefore your wares and merchandise agree, You must say jet will take up a straw: amber will make one fat: Coral will look pale, when you be sick, and crystal staunch blood. So with lying, flattering and glosing you must utter your ware, And you shall win me to your will, if you can deceitfully swear.