BUB. Do you hear, my friend? do you know Master Bubble, if you do see him? MES. No, in truth, do I not. BUB. What is your business with Master Bubble? MES. Marry, sir, I come with welcome news to him. BUB. Tell it, my friend: I am the man. MES. May I be assured, sir, that your name is Master Bubble? BUB. I tell thee, honest friend, my name is Master Bubble, Master Bartholomew Bubble. MES. Why then, sir, you are heir to a million; for your uncle, the rich usurer, is dead. BUB. Pray thee, honest friend, go to the next haberdasher's, and bid him send me a new melancholy hat, and take thou that for thy labour. MES. I will, sir. [_Exit._ _Enter another_ MESSENGER _hastily, and knocks_. BUB. Umh. umh, umh! STAINES. I would the news were true: see how my little Bubble is blown up with't! BUB. Do you hear, my friend; for what do you knock there? 2D MES. Marry, sir, I would speak with the worshipful Master Bubble. BUB. The worshipful! and what would you do with the worshipful Master Bubble? I am the man. 2D MES. I cry your worship mercy then: Master Thong, the belt-maker, sent me to your worship, to give you notice that your uncle is dead, and that you are his only heir. [_Exit._ BUB. Thy news is good, and I have look'd for't long; Thanks unto thee, my friend, and goodman Thong. _Enter_ MASTER BLANK. STAINES. Certainly this news is true; for see another: by this light, his scrivener! Now, Master Blank, whither away so fast? BLANK. Master Staines, God save you. Where is your man? STAINES. Why, look you, sir; do you not see him? BLANK. God save the right worshipful Master Bubble; I bring you heavy news with a light heart. BUB. What are you? BLANK. I am your worship's poor scrivener. BUB. He is an honest man, it seems, for he hath both his ears. BLANK. I am one that your worship's uncle committed some trust in for the putting out of his money, and I hope I shall have the putting out of yours. BUB. The putting out of mine! Would you have the putting out of my money? BLANK. Yea, sir. BUB. No, sir, I am old enough to put out my own money. BLANK. I have writings of your worship's. STAINES. As thou lov'st thy profit, hold thy tongue; thou and I will confer. [_Aside._] BUB. Do you hear, my friend? Can you tell me when and how my uncle died? BLANK. Yes, sir; he died this morning, and he was killed by a butcher. BUB. How! by a butcher? BLANK. Yes indeed, sir; for going this morning into the market to cheapen meat, he fell down stark dead, because a butcher asked him four shillings for a shoulder of mutton. BUB. How, stark dead! and could not _aqua vitæ_ fetch him again? BLANK. No, sir; nor _rosa solis_ neither; and yet there was trial made of both. BUB. I shall love _aqua vitæ_ and _rosa solis_ the better while I live. [_Aside._