SIR THOMAS BITEFIG _as sick_, JANE. SIR T. Now that I have made even, girl, with heaven, Though I am past the worst, and I perceive My dinner only griev'd me; yet 'cause life's Frail and uncertain, let me counsel thee-- 'Tis good to be beforehand still. First, then, I charge thee, lend no money; next, serve God; If ever thou hast children, teach them thrift; They'll learn religion fast enough themselves. Nay, do not weep, but hearken. When heaven shall Please to call in this weary soul of mine; Ben't idle in expense about my burial: Buy me a shroud--any old sheet will serve To clothe corruption; I can rot without Fine linen; 'tis but to enrich the grave, And adorn stench--no reverence to the dead, To make them crumble more luxuriously. One torch will be sufficient to direct The footsteps of my bearers. If there be Any so kind as to accompany My body to the earth, let them not want For entertainment: prythee, see they have A sprig of rosemary dipp'd in common water, To smell to, as they walk along the streets. Eatings and drinkings are no obsequies. Raise no oppressing pile to load my ashes; But if thou'lt needs b' at charges of a tomb, Five or six foot of common stone, engraved With a good hopeful word, or else a couple Of capital letters filled up with pitch, Such as I set upon my sheep, will serve: State is not meet for those that dwell in dust. Mourn as thou pleasest for me; plainness shows True grief. I give thee leave to do it for Two or three years, if that thou shalt think fit; 'Twill save expense in clothes. And so now be My blessing on thee, and my means hereafter. JANE. I hope heaven will not deal so rigidly With me, as to preserve me to th' unwelcome Performance of these sad injunctions. SCENE II. _To them_ MEANWELL. MEAN. Good health unto you, sir. SIR T. I have the more By reason of the care you took in sending A confessor unto me. MEAN. I? a confessor? Sure, there is some design, some trick or other Put on you by those men, who never sleep, Unless they've cheated on that day. SIR T. I hope You do mean your partners my good friends? MEAN. They ne'er deserve the name of friends; they do Covet, not love. If any came from them, It was some vulture in a holy habit, Who did intend your carcase, not your safety. Indeed I know not of't; I've all this while Appear'd another to you than I am. [_Discloseth himself_. Perhaps you know me now, I'm he whom you Pleas'd to forbid your house--whom Master Credulous Takes leave to style lost man and vagabond. SIR T. That I forbad you my house, was only In care to my daughter, not in hate to you.