Act 5 — SCENE III.

Hear. Come, my good vulture, speak; what prey? what mirth? Slicer. What income, my dear holiness? what sport? Shape. Give me the chair: imagine me the knight (When I sit down), and (when I stand) the confessor.

Thus I come in peace to thy soul, good son. 'Tis you must give it, father: I am ill, I'm very ill; fit only now for heaven. My soul would fain be flying, were't not for A sin or two that clogs her. But for a sin Or two that clogs her? Take heed; don't, so near Your last deliverance, play the sophister With heaven. A sin or two! why, I've heard say You're wont to screw your wretched tenants up To th' utmost farthing, and then stand upon The third rent-capon. Then he answers me In the small doleful tune of a country wench Examin'd by th' official for the mischance Of a great belly caught at a Whitson-ale:[227] I could not help it. Then it is your custom, When you invite, to think your meat laid out, You write your beef disburs'd, are wont to call For the return of't just as for a debt; True. That two chimneys ne'er yet smok'd at once In all your buildings. All most true. That you Are wont to keep an untouch'd capon, till Corruption makes it able to walk out And visit the barn-door again. I could Say much more, but I had rather have you Come so much nearer pardon, as t' accuse Yourself by your own mouth. Slicer. How grave the rogue was! Shape. I'll do't as strictly as mine enemy. Sir T. I cannot hold: I'll break in as I am, And take my vengeance whilst my fury's hot. [Above. Mean. Repress it, sir, awhile; h' hath but begun.

Shape. Then thus he drawls it out, I do confess I've been addicted to frugality. Son, do not mince: pray, call it covetousness. Imprimis, It hath ever been my custom To ride beyond an inn to save my horse-meat. Item, When once I had done so, and found No entertainment, I beguil'd the children Of their parch'd peas: my man being left to that We make the emblem of mortality. What? Grass, you mean? Or sweet hay, which you please. Hear. Methinks this is truly coming to a reckoning. He doth account for's sins with Item so. Shape. Item, I've often bought a Cheapside custard, And so refresh'd my soul under my cloak, As I did walk the streets. Cloaking of sins, Although they be but eating sins, I do Pronounce most dangerous. I find this so, I'd almost lost mine eyes by't, being justled. Slicer. O thou rich soul of roguery! Shape. Moreover, I once sung Psalms with servants, where I lodg'd, And took part with 'em in their lovely reliques; Truly my soul did lust, they were temptations. What! sing that you might eat? It is the sin O' th' brethren, son; but that their reliques are Whole widows' houses. Hear. O thou preaching devil! Shape. Item, I entered into a chandler's shop, And eat my bread in secret, whilst my man Fed on the wholesome steam of candle-suet, Item, which grieves me most, I did make bold With the black puddings of my needy tailor: Satan was strong; they did provoke me much. Sir T. Wretch that I was, to trust my bosom to One so exactly bad that, if the book Of all men's lives lay open to his view, Would meet no sin unpractis'd by himself. I will rush in. [Above. Mean. Good sir, keep close awhile. [Above. Shape. I see no tears, no penitential tears. Alas! I cannot weep, mine eyes are pumice: But alms I hope may yet redeem. Alms given In a large manner, son. Won't fifty pounds Wipe off my score? If doubled, 't may do something. Can I be sav'd no cheaper? Take this, then, And pray for me. With that I thus dismiss'd him. Bless'd son, for now I dare pronounce thee bless'd, Being thou'st pour'd thus out thy soul.—The wolf! The wolf! 'Sfoot, peace, we're in the noose; We are betray'd; yon's Meanwell and the knight! Truly he is as good a man as any I ever yet confess'd—don't look that way— A very honest, charitable man, Full of sincerity and true devotion. Sir T. Patience itself would now turn furious. Let's for some officers.

Shape. Discover'd all! Religion is unlucky to me. Hear. Man, Perfidious man! there is no trust in thee! Slicer. I never lik'd this Meanwell; I did always See treachery writ in's forehead. I well hop'd H' had been in prison with his wench. Shape. Leave railing. Along with me. There is left one way more; The cat may yet perhaps light on all four.[228] [Exeunt.