Look, Master Foster; turn your eye that way; There's duty unregarded, while envy struts In too much state: believe me, gentlemen, I know not which to chide first. O. FOS. What idol kneels that heretic to? STEPH. Rise, boy, thou art now my son, and owest no knee To that unnatural: I charge you, rise. O. FOS. Do, sir, or turn your adoration that way; You were kind to him in his tatter'd state; Let him requite it now. MRS FOS. Do, do, we have paid for't aforehand. ROB. I would I were divided in two halves, So that might reconcile your harsh division. STEPH. Proud sir, this son, which you have alienated For my love's sake, shall by my love's bounty Ride side by side in the best equipage Your scorns dare pattern him. O. FOS. Ay, ay, a beggar's gallop up and down. MRS FOS. Ay, 'tis up now, the next step down. STEPH. Ha, ha! I laugh at your envy, sir. My business Is to you. BREW. Good sir, speak of anything but this. STEPH. Sir, I am furnishing some shipping forth, And want some English traffic, broadcloths, kerseys, Or suchlike; my voyage is to the Straits: If you can supply me, sir, I'll be your chapman. BREW. That I shall soon resolve you, sir. _Enter_ FACTORS. Come hither, George. O. FOS. This is the rich merchantman; MRS FOS. That's neither grave nor wise; O. FOS. Who will kill a man at Tyburn shortly. MRS FOS. By carts that may arise;[91] Or if the hangman die, he may have his office. BREW. Then you have bargain'd, George? GEORGE. And the ware carried home, sir; you must look To be little gainer; but lose you cannot. BREW. 'Tis all I desire from thence. Sir, I can furnish you With wares I lately from your brother bought: Please you go see them, for I would fain divide you, Since I can win no nearer friendship. STEPH. I'll go with you, sir. [_Exeunt_ BREWEN, STEPHEN, _and_ GEORGE. O. FOS. Take your adoption with you, sir. ROB. I crave but your blessing with me, sir. O. FOS. 'Tis my curse then; get thee out of mine eye: Thou art a beam in't, and I'll tear it out, Ere it offend to look on thee.[92] MRS FOS. Go, go, sir; follow your uncle-father, Help him to spend what thrift has got together; It will be charity in you to spend, Because your charity it was to lend. ROB. My charity! you can a virtue name, And teach the use, yet never knew the same. [_Exit._ _Enter_ RICHARD. O. FOS. See, wife, here comes Richard; now listen, And hear me crown'd the wealthiest London merchant. Why dost thou look so sadly? MRS FOS. Why dost not speak? hast lost thy tongue? RICH. I never could speak worse. O. FOS. Why, thy voice is good enough.