SHAPE. The pox and plague take all ill-fortune! this The second time that he hath cheated me; My very best suit that I had! AND. How now! What, lost your cloak and suit? A jest, I vow; I vow, a pretty jest. 'Odsnigs, I guess'd so; I saw him have it on: it made him look as like you, As like you--'tis a rogue, a mere decoy. [_Aside._ SHAPE. A rogue, a mere decoy! and yet like me? AND. Nay, hold, I mean he is a rogue, when that He hath his own clothes on. D' y' think that I Would call him so when he is in your suit? SHAPE. No more of that, good Andrew, as you love me; Keep in your wit. AND. Speak, tutor, do I use To quarrel? Speak, good tutor. MEAN. That wit, Andrew, Of yours will be th' undoing of you, if You use't no better. AND. Faith, I thought I might Have broke a witty jest upon him, being I've lost my cloak. MEAN. True; but he has lost his too, And then you know that is not lawful wit. _Enter_ HEARSAY. HEAR. Here's Master Credulous and old Sir Thomas; They have some business with you. MEAN. Bring 'em in. SHAPE. My business lies not here, sirs, fare you well. [_Exit_ SHAPE. AND. For God's sake, don't you tell old Sim on't, now. SCENE V. _To them_ SIR THOMAS BITEFIG, CREDULOUS. MEAN. God save you, good Sir Thomas. SIR T. Save you, sir. MEAN. Your welcome, Master Credulous. CRE. Come hither: Whither do you steal now? What! Where's your cloak? AND. Going to foils e'en now, I put it off. MEAN. To tell you truth, he hath lost it at doublets. CRE. With what a lie you'd flap me in the mouth! Thou hast the readiest invention To put off anything: thou hadst it from Thy mother, I'll be sworn: 't ne'er came from me. MEAN. Peace, as you love yourself: if that the knight Should once perceive that he were given to gaming, 'Twould make him break the match off presently. CRE. Sir Thomas, here's my son; he may be yours, If you please to accept him. AND. Father, don't Give me away for this: try me once more. SIR T. I like his person well enough, if that You'll make him an estate convenient. MEAN. He hath more in him, sir, than he can show. He hath one fault: he's something covetous. SIR T. Marry, a very commendable fault. CRE. He is descended of no great high blood: He hath a house, although he came of none. His grandfather was a good livery-man, Paid scot and lot, old Timothy Credulous My father--though I say it, that should not. SIR T. I don't regard this thing that you call blood; 'Tis a mere name, a sound.