RUFFIAN. What saucy Rascal is that which knocks so boldly? O, is it you? old spend-thrift, are you here? One that is turned Cozener about this town: My Mistress saw you, and sends this word by me: Either be packing quickly from the door, Or you shall have such a greeting sent you straight, As you will little like on: you had best be gone. FLOWERDALE. Why so, this is as it should be: being poor, Thus art thou served by a vile painted whore. Well, since thy damned crew do so abuse thee, I’ll try of honest men, how they will use me. [Enter an ancient Citizen.] Sir, I beseech you to take compassion of a man, one whose Fortunes have been better than at this instant they seem to be: but if I might crave of you some such little portion, as would bring me to my friends, I should rest thankful, until I had requited so great a courtesy. CITIZEN. Fie, fie, young man, this course is very bad, Too many such have we about this City, Yet for I have not seen you in this sort, Nor noted you to be a common beggar: Hold, there’s an angel, to bear your charges down. Go to your friends, do not on this depend: Such bad beginnings oft have worser ends. [Exit Citizen.] FLOWERDALE. Worser ends: nay, if it fall out no worse than in old angels I care not. Nay, now I have had such a fortunate beginning, I’ll not let a sixpenny-purse escape me. By the mass, here comes another. [Enter a Citizen’s wife with a torch before her.] God bless you, fair mistress. Now would it please you, gentlewoman, to look into the wants of a poor Gentle-Man, a younger brother, I doubt not but God will treble restore it back again: one that never before this time demanded penny, halfpenny, nor farthing. CITIZEN’S WIFE. Stay, Alexander. Now, by my troth, a very proper man, and tis great pity: hold, my friend, there’s all the money I have about me, a couple of shillings, and God bless thee. FLOWERDALE. Now God thank you, sweet Lady: if you have any friend, or Garden-house, where you may employ a poor gentleman as your friend, I am yours to command in all secret service. CITIZEN’S WIFE. I thank you, good friend. I prithee let me see that again I gave thee: there is one of them a brass shilling; give me them, and here is half a crown in gold. [He gives it her.] Now, out upon thee, Rascal! secret service! what doest thou make of me? it were a good deed to have thee whipped. Now I have my money again, I’ll see thee hanged before I give thee a penny. Secret service! On, good Alexander. [Exit both.] FLOWERDALE. This is villainous luck. I perceive dishonesty will not thrive: here comes more. God forgive me, Sir Arthur, and Master Oliver: afore God, I’ll speak to them. [Enter Sir Arthur, and M. Oliver.] God save you, Sir Arthur: God save you, Master Oliver. OLIVER. Byn you there, zirrah? come, will you ytaken yourself to your tools, Coystrell?