Clem. Score a pottle of sack in the Crown, and see at the bar for some rotten eggs, to burn it: we must have one trick or other, to vent away our bad commodities. [_Exit_. SCENE V.--_A Bedroom in the Tavern_. _Enter_ Bess, _with_ Spencer’s _Picture_. Bess. To die, and not vouchsafe some few commends Before his death, was most unkindly done. This picture is more courteous: ’t will not shrink For twenty thousand kisses; no, nor blush: Then thou shalt be my husband; and I vow Never to marry other. _Enter_ Captain Goodlack. Goodlack. Where’s this harlot? Bess. You are immodest, sir, to press thus rudely Into my private chamber. Goodlack. Pox of modesty, When punks[2.41] must have it mincing in their mouths!-- And have I found thee? thou shalt hence with me. [_Seizes the picture_. Bess. Rob me not of the chiefest wealth I have. Search all my trunks; take the best jewels there; Deprive me not that treasure: I’ll redeem it With plate, and all the little coin I have, So I may keep that still. Goodlack. Think’st thou that bribes Can make me leave my friend’s will unperformed? Bess. What was that friend? Goodlack. One Spencer, dead i’ the Islands, Whose very last words, uttered at his death, Were these: “If ever thou shalt come to Foy, Take thence my picture, and deface it quite; For let it not be said, my portraiture Shall grace a strumpet’s chamber.” Bess. ’Twas not so: You lie! you are a villain! ’twas not so. ’Tis more than sin thus to belie the dead. He knew, if ever I would have transgressed, ’T had been with him: he durst have sworn me chaste, And died in that belief. Goodlack. Are you so brief? Nay, I’ll not trouble you. God be wi’ you! Bess. Yet leave me still that picture, and I’ll swear You are a gentleman, and cannot lie. Goodlack. I am inexorable. Bess. Are you a Christian? Have you any name that ever good man gave you? ’Twas no saint you were called after. What’s thy name? Goodlack. My name is Captain Thomas Good---- Bess. I can see no good in thee: rase that syllable Out of thy name. Goodlack. Goodlack’s my name. Bess. I cry you mercy, sir: I now remember you; You were my Spencer’s friend; and I am sorry, Because he loved you, I have been so harsh: For whose sake I entreat, ere you take’t hence, I may but take my leave on’t. Goodlack. You’ll return it? Bess. As I am chaste, I will. Goodlack. For once I’ll trust you. [_Returns the picture_. Bess. O thou, the perfect semblance of my love, And all that’s left of him, take one sweet kiss, As my last farewell! Thou resemblest him For whose sweet safety I was every morning Down on my knees, and with the lark’s sweet tunes I did begin my prayers; and when sad sleep Had charmed all eyes, when none save the bright stars Were up and waking, I remembered thee; But all, all to no purpose.