_Wel._ My humble thanks:
God grant I may but live to quit your love. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Young Loveless _and_ Savil.
_Young Lo._ Did your Master send for me _Savil_?
_Sav._ Yes, he did send for your worship Sir.
_Young Lo._ Do you know the business?
_Sav._ Alas Sir, I know nothing, nor am imployed beyond my hours of
eating. My dancing days are done Sir.
_Young Lo._ What art thou now then?
_Sav._ If you consider me in little, I am with your worships reverence
Sir, a Rascal: one that upon the next anger of your Brother, must raise a
sconce by the high way, and sell switches; my wife is learning now Sir, to
weave inkle.
_Young Lo._ What dost thou mean to do with thy Children _Savil_?
_Sav._ My eldest boy is half a Rogue already, he was born bursten, and
your worship knows, that is a pretty step to mens compassions. My youngest
boy I purpose Sir to bind for ten years to a G[ao]ler, to draw under him,
that he may shew us mercy in his function.
_Young Lo._ Your family is quartered with discretion: you are resolved to
Cant then: where _Savil_ shall your scene lie?
_Sav._ Beggers must be no chusers.
In every place (I take it) but the stocks.
_Young Lo._ This is your drinking, and your whoring _Savil_, I told you of
it, but your heart was hardened.
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