Act 1 — ACT I., SCENE I.

Sea. I promise you 'twill be a most rare plot. Ware. The city, Master Seathrift, never yet Brought forth the like: I would have them that have Fin'd twice for sheriff, mend it. Sea. Mend it! why, 'Tis past the wit o' th' court of aldermen. Next merchant-tailor, that writes chronicles,[181] Will put us in. Ware. For, since I took him home, Though, sir, my nephew, as you may observe, Seem quite transfigur'd, be as dutiful As a new 'prentice, in his talk declaim 'Gainst revelling companions, be as hard To be entic'd from home as my door-posts, This reformation may but be his part, And he may act his virtues. I have not Forgot his riots at the Temple. You know, sir—— Sea. You told me, Master Warehouse. Ware. Not the sea, When it devour'd my ships, cost me so much As did his vanities. A voyage to the Indies Has been lost in a night: his daily suits Were worth more than the stock that set me up; For which he knew none but the silk-man's book, And studied that more than the law. He had His loves, too, and his mistresses; was enter'd Among the philosophical madams;[182] was As great with them as their concerners; and, I hear, Kept one of them in pension. Sea. My son too Hath had his errors: I could tell the time When all the wine which I put off by wholesale He took again in quarts; and at the day Vintners have paid me with his large scores: but He is reformed too. Ware. Sir, we now are friends In a design. Sea. And hope to be in time Friends in alliance, sir. Ware. I'll be free; I think well of your son. Sea. Who? Timothy? Believe't, a virtuous boy; and for his sister, A very saint. Ware. Mistake me not, I have The like opinion of my nephew, sir; Yet he is young, and so is your son; nor Doth the church-book say they are past our fears. Our presence is their bridle now; 'tis good To know them well whom we do make our heirs. Sea. It is most true. Ware. Well; and how shall we know How they will use their fortune, or what place We have in their affection, without trial? Some wise men build their own tombs; let us try, If we were dead, whether our heirs would cry, Or wear[183] long cloaks. This plot will do't. Sea. 'Twill make us Famous upon the Exchange for ever. I'll home, And take leave of my wife and son. Ware. And I'll Come to you at your garden-house.[184] Within there.