O. FOS. Bread, bread! some Christian man send back Your charity to a number of poor prisoners. One penny for the tender mercy! [ROBERT _puts in money_. The hand of heaven reward you, gentle sir, Never may you want, never feel misery; Let blessings in unnumber'd measure grow, And fall upon your head where'er you go. ROB. O happy comfort! curses to the ground First struck me: now with blessings I am crown'd. O. FOS. Bread, bread, for the tender mercy! one penny for a loaf of bread! ROB. I'll buy more blessings: take thou all my store, I'll keep no coin, and see my father poor. [_Puts in more money._ O. FOS. Good angels guard you, sir; my prayers shall be That heaven may bless you for this charity! ROB. If he knew me, sure he would not say so; Yet I have comfort, if by any means I get a blessing from my father's hands. How cheap are good prayers! a poor penny buys That by which man up in a minute flies, And mounts to heaven. _Enter_ STEPHEN. O me! mine uncle sees me. STEPH. Now, sir, what make you here So near the prison? ROB. I was going, sir, To buy meat for a poor bird I have, That sits so sadly in the cage of late, I think he'll die for sorrow. STEPH. So, sir; your pity will not quit your pains: I fear me, I shall find that bird to be That churlish wretch your father, that has taken Shelter here in Ludgate. Go to, sir! urge me not, You had best; I have given you warning; Fawn not upon him, nor come not near him, If you'll have my love. ROB. 'Las, sir! that lamb Were most unnatural that should hate the dam. STEPH. Lamb me no lambs, sir! ROB. Good uncle! alas! You know, when you lay here, I succour'd you, So let me now help him. STEPH. Yes, as he did me, To laugh and triumph at my misery; You freed me with his gold, but 'gainst his will: For him I might have rotted, and lain still: So shall he now. ROB. Alack the day! STEPH. If him thou pity, 'tis thine own decay. O. FOS. Bread, bread! some charitable man remember the poor prisoners: bread for the tender mercy! one penny! ROB. O listen, uncle! That's my poor father's voice. STEPH. There let him howl. Get you gone, and come not near him. ROB. O my soul, What tortures dost thou feel! Earth ne'er shall find A son so true, yet forc'd to be unkind. [_Exit._