The first part of
CobhamNay, nay, they know thee well enough, I thinke that all the beggars in this land are thy acquaintance, goe bestowe your almes, none will controule you sir.
Harp.What should I giue them? you are growne so beggarly, you haue scarce a bitte of breade to giue at your doore: you talke of your religion so long, that you haue banished charitie from amongst you, a man may make a flaxe shop in your kitchin chimnies, for any fire there is stirring.
CobhamIf thou wilt giue them nothing, send them hence, let them not stand here staruing in the colde.
Harp.Who I driue them hence? if I driue poore men from your doore, Ile be hangd, I know not what I may come to my selfe: yea, God help you poore knaues, ye see the world yfaith, well, you had a mother: well, God be with thee good Lady, thy soule's at rest: she gaue more in shirts and smocks to poore children, then you spend in your house, & yet you liue a beggar too.
CobhamEuen the worst deede that ere my mother did, was in releeuing such a foole as thou.
HarpooleYea, yea, I am a foole still, with all your wit you will die a beggar, go too.
CobhamGo you olde foole, giue the poore people something, go in poore men into the inner court, and take such alms as there is to be had.
SouldierGod blesse your honor.
HarpooleHang you roags, hang you, theres nothing but misery amongst you, you feare no law you. Exit.
Olde manGod blesse you good maister Rafe, God saue your life, you are good to the poore still.
Enter the Lord Powes disguised, and shrowde himselfe.
CobhamWhat fellow's yonder comes along the groue?
Few passengers there be that know this way:
Me thinkes he stops as though he stayd for me,
And meant to shrowd himselfe amongst the bushes.
I know the Cleargie hate me to the death,
And my religion gets me many foes:
