SIMONY. And I have been a traveller abroad in other realms, for here I am so cried out against by preachers (and yet some ministers, that be none, could be content to use me) that I was glad to be gone: now, in some other lands, and not very far off, I am secretly fostered--saving in Scotland and the Low-Countries, [where] they are reformed, they cannot abide me. Well, now and then hither I came stealing over sea, and hearing as you hear, intend as you do. FRAUD. And for mine own part, among artificers, And amongst a few bad-conscienced lawyers, I have found such entertainment as doth pass, Yet would I with Lucre fain be as I was. SIMPLICITY. Fraud is as ill as a cut-purse, by the mass. [Aside. USURY. And for Usury, the longer I live the greater love I find; Yet would I be with Lucre again, to please my mind. FRAUD. Here's a good fellow, too, one of our acquaintance. How hast thou lived, Simplicity? SIMPLICITY. More honestly than all the rest of thy company; for when I might beg no longer, as begging was but bad, for you cosen'd me once of an alms, I fell to tankard-bearing, and so got a wife of the same science, Painful-Penury: then got I my freedom, and feeling my shoulder grow weary of the tankard, set up an easier trade--to sell ballads. FRAUD. Hadst thou a stock to set up withal? SIMPLICITY. Wise enough to tell you, I!--and yonder's my stall: but beware I lose nothing, for if I do, I'll lay it straight to some of you; for I saw none so like thieves, I promise you, since I set up. FRAUD. You are a wise man, when your nose is in the cup. But soft, who comes here? step we close aside, for these be the three ladies, for my life, brought out of prison by their keeper. Let us be whist, and we shall hear and see all. Sirrah, you must say nothing. _Enter SORROW and the three Ladies: he sets them on three stones on the stage._ SIMPLICITY. Not till ye speak, for I am afraid of him that's with the women. CONSCIENCE. O Sorrow, when, when, Sorrow, wilt thou cease To blow the spark that burns my troubled soul, To feed the worm that stings my fainting breast, And sharp the steel that gores my bleeding heart? My thoughts are thorns, my tears hot drops of lead: I plain, I pine, I die, yet never dead. If world would end, my woe should but begin: Lo, this the case of Conscience for her sin; And sin the food, wherewith my worm was fed, That stings me now to death, yet never dead.