Cash. Not yet, sir, but I will, Please you--- Kit. No, Thomas, I dare take thy word, But, if thou wilt swear, do as thou think'st; good; I am resolv'd without It; at thy pleasure. Cash. By my soul's safety then, sir, I protest, My tongue shall ne'er take knowledge of a word Deliver'd me in nature of your trust. Kit. It is too much; these ceremonies need not: I know thy faith to be as firm as rock. Thomas, come hither, near; we cannot be Too private in this business. So it is,--- Now he has sworn, I dare the safelier venture. [Aside. I have of late, by divers observations--- But whether his oath can bind him, yea, or no, Being not taken lawfully? ha! say you? I will ask council ere I do proceed:---- [Aside. Thomas, it will be now too long to stay, I'll spy some fitter time soon, or to-morrow. Cash. Sir, at your pleasure. Kit. I will think:-and, Thomas, I pray you search the books 'gainst my return, For the receipts 'twixt me and Traps. Cash. I will, sir. Kit. And hear you, if your mistress's brother, Wellbred, Chance to bring hither any gentleman, Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word. Cash. Very well, sir. Kit. To the Exchange, do you hear? Or here in Coleman-street, to justice Clement's. Forget it not, nor be not out of the way. Cash. I will not, sir. Kit. I pray you have a care on't. Or, whether he come or no, if any other, Stranger, or else; fail not to send me word. Cash. I shall not, sir. Kit. Be it your special business Now to remember it. Cash. Sir, I warrant you. Kit. But, Thomas, this is not the secret, Thomas, I told you of. Cash. No, sir; I do suppose it. Kit. Believe me, it is not. Cash. Sir, I do believe you. Kit. By heaven it is not, that's enough: but, Thomas, I would not you should utter it, do you see, To any creature living; yet I care not. Well, I must hence. Thomas, conceive thus much; It was a trial of you, when I meant So deep a secret to you, I mean not this, But that I have to tell you; this is nothing, this. But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you, Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here.--- No greater hell than to be slave to fear. [Exit. Cash. Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here! Whence should this flood of passion, trow, take head? ha! Best dream no longer of this running humour, For fear I sink; the violence of the stream Already hath transported me so far, That I can feel no ground at all: but soft--- Oh, 'tis our water-bearer: somewhat has crost him now. Enter COB, hastily.