Mere-craft, Fitz-dottrel, Pit-fall, Ever-ill, Plutarchus.
But what ha' you done i' your Dependance since?
Fit.
O, it goes on; I met your Cousin, the Master —
Mer.
You did not acquaint him, Sir?
Fit.
Faith, but I did, Sir.
And, upon better thought, not without reason!
He being chief Officer, might ha' tane it ill else,
As a Contempt against his Place, and that
In time, Sir, ha' drawn on another Dependance.
No, I did find him in good Terms, and ready
To do me any Service.
Mer.
So he said to you?
But, Sir, you do not know him.
Fit.
Why, I presum'd,
Because this Bus'ness of my Wives requir'd me,
I could not ha' done better: And he told
Me, that he would go presently to your Counsel,
A Knight here i' the Lane —
Mer.
Yes, Justice Either-side.
Fit.
And get the Feoffment drawn, with a Letter of
Atturney,
For Livery and Seisin.
Mer.
That I know's the Course.
But, Sir, you mean not to make him Feoffee?
Fit.
Nay, that I'll pause on!
Mer.
How now, little Pit-fall?
Pit.
Your Cousin, Master Ever-ill, would come in —
But he would know if Mr. Manly were here.
Mer.
No, tell him, if he were, I ha' made his Peace!
[Mere-craft whispers against him.
He's one, Sir, has no State, and a Man knows not
How such a Trust may tempt him.
Fit.
I conceive you.
Eve.
Sir, this same Deed is done here.
Mer.
Pretty Plutarchus!
Art thou come with it? and has Sir Poul view'd it?
Plu.
His Hand is to the Draught.
Mer.
Will you step in, Sir,
And read it?
Fit.
Yes.
Eve.
I pray you, a word wi' you.
[Ever-ill whispers against Mere-craft.
Sir Poul Either-side will'd me gi' you caution
Whom you did make Feoffee; for 'tis the Trust
O' your whole State; and though my Cousin here
Be a worthy Gentleman, yet his Valour has
At the tall Board been question'd; and we hold
Any Man so impeach'd, of doubtful Honesty!
I will not justifie this, but give it you
To make your profit of it; if you utter it,
I can forswear it.
Fit.
I believe you, and thank you, Sir.