PHILARCHUS. Thanks, gracious king, for this great favour shown, And may I never live, if I forget Your grace's kind and unexpected love, In favouring him whom all the world forsook: For which my orisons shall still be spent, Heavens may protect your princely majesty. And, loving father, here upon my knee, Sorry for my amiss, I take my leave Both of yourself, my king, and countrymen. England, farewell, more dearer unto me, Than pen can write, or heart can think of thee. [_Exit_. KING. Farewell, Philarchus; and, father, come to Court; And, for Philarchus' sake, thou shalt not want. FATHER. Thanks, virtuous king; I humbly take my leave. [_Exit_. KING. Dunstan, I promise thee, I was like to weep, To hear what piteous moan Philarchus made. DUNSTAN. Here your grace hath showed yourself to be Edgar, so famed for love and virtuous government; And I pray God your grace may live to be Long England's king to reign with verity. [_Exeunt_. [_Enter_ HONESTY.] HONESTY. 'Tis strange to see how men of honesty Are troubled many times with subtle knavery: For they have so many cloaks to colour their abuses, That Honesty may well suspect them, but dares not detect them; For if he should, they have by their knavery Got so many friends, that though never so bad, They will stand in defence with the best. I was at the water-side, where I saw such deceit-- I dare not say knavery--in paying and receiving Custom for outlandish ware, that I wond'red to see, Yet durst not complain of: the reason was, They were countenanced with men of great wealth, Richer than I a great deal, but not honester. Then I went into the markets, where I saw petty knavery In false-measuring corn, and in scales, That wanted no less than two ounces in the pound. But all this was nothing, scant worth the talking of; But when I came to the Exchange, I espied in a corner of an aisle An arch-cosener; a coneycatcher, I mean, Which used such gross cosening, as you would wonder to hear. But here he comes fine and brave: Honesty marks him down for a knave. [_Enter_ CONEYCATCHER.] CONEYCATCHER. Why so, 'tis an ill wind blows no man to profit; And he is but a fool that, when all fails, cannot live upon his wit. I have attired myself like a very civil citizen, To draw fourscore pound from a couple of fools. A gentleman, having made over his land by deed of gift, Means to cosen a broker with a false conveyance. All's one to me; I shall lose nothing by the bargain. But here comes the broker: I will walk, as I regarded him not. [_Enter_ BROKER.] BROKER. God save you, sir: I see you keep your hour. But hear you, sir; hath the gentleman that conveyance You told me of ready? I hope, sir, I Shall need misdoubt no deceit in the matter, For I mean plainly, and so, I hope, do you.