+Bright.+ Save you, merchant Plotwell! +New.+ Master Plotwell, citizen and merchant, save you! +Bright.+ Is thy uncle Gone the wish'd voyage? +Plot.+ Yes, he's gone; and, if He die by th' way, hath bequeath'd me but some Twelve hundred pound a year in Kent; some three- Score thousand pound in money, besides jewels, bonds, And desperate debts. +New.+ And dost not thou fall down, And pray to th' winds to sacrifice him to Poor John and mackarel? +Bright.+ Or invoke some rock To do thee justice? +New.+ Or some compendious cannon To take him off i' th' middle? +Plot.+ And why, my tender, Soft-hearted friends? +Bright.+ What, to take thee from the Temple, To make thee an old juryman, a Whittington? +New.+ To transform thy plush to penny-stone; and scarlet Into a velvet jacket, which hath seen Aleppo twice, is known to the great Turk, Hath 'scap'd three shipwrecks to be left off to thee, And knows the way to Mexico as well as the map? +Bright.+ This jacket surely was employed in finding The north-east passage out, or the same jacket That Coriat[188] died in. +Plot.+ Very good. +New.+ In Ovid There is not such a metamorphosis As thou art now. To be turned into a tree Or some handsome beast, is courtly to this. But for thee, Frank, O transmutation! Of satin chang'd to kersey hose I sing.[189] 'Slid, his shoes shine too.[190] +Bright.+ They have the Gresham dye. Dost thou not dress thyself by 'em? I can see My face in them hither. +Plot.+ Very pleasant, gentlemen. +Bright.+ And faith, for how many years art thou bound? +Plot.+ Do you take me for a 'prentice? +New.+ Why, then, what office Dost thou bear in the parish this year? Let's feel: No batteries[191] in thy head, to signify Th' art a constable? +Bright.+ No furious jug broke on it In the king's name? +Plot.+ Did you contrive this scene By the way, gentlemen? +New.+ No; but the news Thou shouldst turn tradesman, and this pagan dress, In which if thou shouldst die, thou wouldst be damn'd For an usurer, is comical at the Temple. We were about to bring in such a fellow For an apostate in our antimasque. Set one to keep the door, provide half-crown rooms, For I'll set bills up of thee. What shall I Give thee for the first day? +Bright.+ Ay, or second? For thou'lt endure twice or thrice coming in. +Plot.+ Well, my conceited Orient friends, bright offspring O' th' female silkworm and tailor male, I deny not But you look well in your unpaid-for glory; That in these colours you set out the Strand, And adorn Fleet Street; that you may laugh at me, Poor working-day o' th' city, like two festivals Escap'd out of the Almanac. +New.+ Sirrah Bright, Didst look to hear such language beyond Ludgate?