PIS. What is this world, or what this state of man? How in a moment curs'd, in a trice bless'd! But even now my happy state 'gan fade, And now again my state is happy made. My goods all safe, my ships all 'scap'd away, And none to bring me news of such good luck, But whom the heavens have mark'd to be my son! Were I a lord as great as Alexander, None should more willingly be made mine heir, Than thee, thou golden tongue, thou good-news teller! Joy stops my mouth-- [_The Exchange bell rings._ BAL. Master Pisaro, the day is late, the bell doth ring: Wilt please you hasten to perform this business? PIS. What business, sir? Gods me, I cry you mercy. Do it? yes, sir, you shall command me more. TOW. But, sir, what do you mean? do you intend To pay this bill, or else to palter with me? PIS. Marry, God shield, that I should palter with you: I do accept it, and come when you please, You shall have money; you shall have your money due. POST. I beseech your worship to consider me. PIS. O, you cannot cog! go to, take that. Pray for my life: pray that I have good luck, And thou shalt see I will not be thy worst master. POST. Marry, God bless your worship, I came in happy time. What, a French crown! sure, he knows not what he does. Well, I'll be gone, lest he remember himself, and take it from me again. [_Exit_ POST. PIS. Come on, my lads! Master Vandal, sweet son Alvaro. Come, Don Balsaro, let's be jogging home. By'r laken,[501] sirs, I think 'tis one o'clock. [_Exeunt_ PISARO, BALSARO, ALVARO, DELION, _and_ VANDAL. BROWN. Come, Master Moore, th' Exchange is waxen thin; I think it best we get us home to dinner. MOORE. I know that I am look'd for long ere this. Come, Master Towerson, let's walk along. [_Exeunt_ MOORE, BROWN, TOWERSON, _Strangers_ _and Merchant_. HEIGH. And if you be so hot upon your dinner, Your best way is to haste Pisaro on, For he is cold enough, and slow enough; He hath so late digested such cold news. WAL. Marry, and shall. Hear you, Master Pisaro. HAR. Many Pisaros here![502] Why, how now, Ned, Where is your Mat,[503] your welcome, and good cheer? WAL. Come, let us follow him. Why stay we here? HEIGH. Nay, prythee, Ned Walgrave, let's bethink ourselves. There's no such haste: we may come time enough. At first Pisaro bad us come to him 'Twixt two or three o'clock at afternoon: Then was he old Pisaro; but since then, What with his grief for loss and joy for finding, He quite forgat himself, when he did bid us, And afterward forgat that he had bad us.