ROB. You are sav'd, believing so: your belief's true. WIFE. You cut large thongs of that's another's due, And you will answer't ill. Now, in good troth, I laugh at this jest: much good do them both: My wager I had won, had I but laid. [_Aside._ O. FOS. What has my poor boy done, that you have made So much blood rise in's cheeks? WIFE. Nothing, dear brother; Indeed all's well: the course that he has run I like and love; let him hold on the same; A son's love to a father none can blame: I will not leave your brother's iron heart, Till I have beat it soft with my entreats. O. FOS. 'Twill ne'er be music, 'tis so full of frets. WIFE. Frets make best music: strings the higher rack'd Sound sweetest. O. FOS. And sound nothing when they are crack'd, As is his love to me, and mine to him. WIFE. I hope you both in smoother streams shall swim. He's now the Sheriff of London, and in council Set at the Guildhall in his scarlet gown, With mayor and aldermen, how to receive the king, Who comes to see Master Brewen's hospital To-morrow, consecrated by th' Cardinal, And old St Mary's Spital, here by Shoreditch. MRS FOS. Ay, sister, he and you may set 'Bout what you will; heav'n, I am sure, prospers it; But I am ever cross'd: you have been bound For three great voyages, yet ne'er run aground-- Maid, wife, and widow, and wife again--have spread Full and fair sails, no wrecks you e'er did dread, Nor e'er felt any; but even close ashore, I'm sunk, and 'midst of all my wealth made poor. WIFE. You must thank heaven. MRS FOS. I do, indeed, for all. WIFE. Sister, that hand can raise that gives the fall. _Enter_ KEEPER. KEEPER. Master Foster, the new sheriff, your brother, Is come to Ludgate, and I am come in haste To know your pleasure, if you would see him. O. FOS. I'll see a fury first; hence! clap to the door, I pray thee. WIFE. Why, 'tis your brother, sir. ROB. Father, let's fly the thunder of his rage. WIFE. Stand valiantly, And let me bear the storm: all hurts that are, And ruins in your bosoms I'll repair. _Enter_ STEPHEN FOSTER. STEPH. Where's the keeper? Go, sir, take my officers And see your prisoners presently convey'd From Ludgate unto Newgate and the Counters. KEEPER. I shall, sir. STEPH. Let the constables of the wards Assist you. Go, despatch! and take these with you. [_To_ ROBERT.] How now! what mak'st thou here, thou caitiff? Ha! Com'st thou to stitch his wounds that seeks to cut My throat? Darest thou in despite Relieve this dotard?