EARTH. There my wonder lies. Why should the people come to quench my fire? Had it been a city, where one house Might have endanger'd all, it justly then Might have engag'd the people's utmost aid, And I ne'er bound to give them thanks at all; But my house stands alone, and could endanger No other building. Why should all the people Come running hither so to quench the fire? They love not me. JAS. Sure, sir, I cannot tell; Perhaps the people knew not what to do, And might be glad to see a sight. EARTH. Methought, As I came by, I saw them wondrous busy; Nay, more--methought I heard them pray for me, As if they lov'd me. Why should they do so? I ne'er deserv'd it at the people's hands. Go, Jasper, tell me whether it be quench'd, And all secure: I long to hear the news. _Enter_ THEODORE. THEO. I come to bring you happy tidings, sir. The fire is quench'd, and little hurt is done. EARTH. That's well, my son. THEO. But, sir, if you had seen How the poor people labour'd to effect it, And (like so many salamanders) rush'd Into the fire, scorching their clothes and beards, You would have wonder'd justly, and have thought That each man toil'd to save his father's house Or his own dear estate; but I conceive 'Twas nothing but an honest charity, That wrought it in them. EARTH. Ha! a charity! Why should that charity be show'd to me? THEO. If I mistake not strangely, he begins To apprehend it. EARTH. As I came along, I heard them pray for me; but those good prayers Can never pierce the skies in my behalf, But will return again, and ever lodge Within those honest breasts, that sent them forth. THEO. Surely it works. EARTH. O! all the world but I are honest men! [_He weeps._ THEO. What is't that troubles you? Your goods are safe; there's nothing lost at all. You should rejoice, methinks. You might have suffer'd A wondrous loss in your estate! EARTH. Ah, son! 'Tis not the thought of what I might have lost, That draws these tears from me. THEO. Does he not weep, Or do my flattering hopes deceive my sight? He weeps, and fully too; large show'rs of tears Bedew his aged cheeks. O happy sorrow, That makes me weep for joy! Never did son So justly glory in a father's tears. [_Aside._ Sir, you are sad, methinks. EARTH. No sadness, son, Can be enough to expiate the crimes That my accursed avarice has wrought. Where are the poor? THEO. Why, sir, what would you do?[18]