ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter BARKER, FRESHWATER, and GUDGEON.

Bar. And what made you undertake this voyage, Sweet Signior Freshwater?

Fres. An affection

I had to be acquainted with some countries.

Gud. Give him good words.

Bar. And you return fraught home with the rich devices, Fashions of steeples, and the situations

Of gallowses, and wit, no doubt, a bushel.

What price are oats in Venice?

Fres. Signior,

I kept no horses there, my man and I

Bar. Were asses.

Fres. How, signior?

Gud. Give him good words, a pox take him.

Bar. Had not you land once?

Fres. I had some dirty acres.

Gud. I am his witness.

Fres. Which I reduced into a narrow compass,

Some call it selling.

Gud. He would sell bargains of a child.

Fres. And 'twas a thriving policy.

Bar. As how?

Fres. It was but two hundred pound per annum, sir;

A lean revenue.

Bar. And did you sell it all?

Fres. I did not leave an acre, rod, or perch;
That had been no discretion: when I was selling
I would sell to purpose; do you see this roll?
I have good security for my money, sir,
Not an egg here but has five chickens in't;
I did most politickly disburse my sums,

To have five for one at my return from Venice,

And now I thank my stars I am at home.

Bar. And so, by consequence, in three months your estate

Will be five times as much, or quintupled.

Fres. Yes, signior, quintupled;

I will not purchase, yet I mean to use
This trick seven years together; first

I'll still put out, and quintuply as you call❜t;
And when I can in my exchequer tell

Two or three millions, I will fall a purchasing.
Bar. Kingdoms, I warrant.

Fres. I have a mind to buy

Constantinople from the Turk, and give it

The emperor.

Bar. What think you of Jerusalem?

If you would purchase that, and bring it nearer,

The Christian pilgrims would be much oblig'd to you.
When did you wash your socks?

Fres. I wear none, signior.

Bar. Then 'tis your breath; to your lodging and perfume

it!

You'll tell the sweeter lies to them that will

Lose so much time to ask about your travel:

You will not sell your debts?

REESE LIBRARY

OF THE

UNIVERSITY
CALIFORNIA.

Fres. Sell 'em? no, signior.

Bar. Have you as much left in ready cash as will
Keep you and this old troul a fortnight longer?
Die, and forgive the world! thou may'st be buried,
And have the church-cloth, if you can put in
Security the parish shall be put

To no more charge; dost thou hope to have a penny
Of thy own money back? is this an age

Of five for one? die ere the town take notice !

There is a hideous woman carries ballads,

And has a singing in her head; take heed

And hang thyself, thou may'st not hear the time:
You remember Coryat.*

Fres. Honest Tom Odcombe.

Bar. We'll have more verses o' thy travels, coxcomb;

Books shall be sold in bushels in Cheapside,

And come in like the peascods, wain loads full
Of thee, and thy man Apple John, that looks
As he had been a se'nnight in the straw
A ripening for the market; farewell, russeting!
Thou art not worth my spleen; do not forget
My counsel; hang thyself, and thou go'st off
Without a sessions.

[exit.

Fres. Fine! I'm glad he's gone. Gudgeon, what dost

thou think?

Gud. I think you're well rid of a railing madcap.

Tom Coryat of Odcombe, called the Leg-stretcher; a man who aspired to the reputation of a wit and a traveller with equal want of success, as may be seen by any one who will take the trouble to consult his "Crudities."

Fres. Nay, nay, he'll not spare a lord:

But were not I best call in my monies, Gudgeon?
My estate will not hold out; I must be more
Familiar with my gentlemen.

Enter LORD RAINEBOW.

Lord R. Jack Freshwater! welcome from Venice.

Fres. I thank your honour.

Lord R. Was it not Frank Barker that parted from you? Fres. Yes, my lord.

Lord R. What's the matter?

Fres. There is a sum, my lord.

Lord R. Where is it, signior?

Fres. There was a sum, my lord, deliver❜d

From your poor servant Freshwater.

Lord R. I remember:

But I have business now; come home to me,

The money's safe; you were to give me five

For one at your return.

Fres. I, five? Your lordship has forgot the cinquepace.

Lord R. Something it is, but when I am at leisure We will discourse of that, and of your travel;

Farewell, signior.

Fres. Is't come to this? if lords play fast and loose,

What shall poor knights, and gentlemen?

Hum, 'tis he.

[exit.

Enter COLONEL.

Col. A pox upon him! what makes he in my way?
Fres. Noble colonel.

Col. Que dites vous, monsieur ?

Fres. Que dites vous!

Col. Oui, Je ne parle pas Anglois.*

Fres. There were five English pieces.

Col. Je ne parle pas Anglois, me speak no word Eng

lish;

Votre serviteur.

Fres. Adieu five pieces,

Gudgeon gape, is't not he?

They will not use me o'this fashion :

Did he not speak to me i'the morning?

Gud. Yes, sir.

Fres. I think so.

Gud. But then you would not know him in Italian, And now he will not know you in French.

[exit.

Fres. Call you this selling of land, and putting out money To multiply estate?

Gud. To quintuply five for one; large interest.

Fres. Five for one! 'tis ten to one if I get my principal. Gud. Your roll is not at the bottom yet, try the rest. Fres. I have signior, farewell.

[exeunt.

Enter SCUTILLA and SOLOMON.

Scu. Didst speak with the colonel?

Sol. I met him opportunely after all the rest,

* The printer has made strange words out of the French introduced in different parts of the dialogue; but, it is presumed, the author intended that the Colonel should speak it correctly.