_Gos_. I thrive the better for thy prayers.

_Ger_. I hope so.
This three years have I fed upon your bounties,
And by the fire of your blest charity warm'd me,
And yet, good Master, pardon me, that must,
Though I have now receiv'd your alms, presume
To make one sute more to you.

_Gos_. What is't _Clause_?

_Ger_. Yet do not think me impudent I beseech you,
Since hitherto your charity hath prevented
My begging your relief, 'tis not for mony
Nor cloaths (good Master) but your good word for me.

_Gos_. That thou shalt have, _Clause_, for I think thee honest.

_Ger_. To morrow then (dear M'r.) take the trouble
Of walking early unto _Beggars Bush_,
And as you see me, among others (Brethren
In my affliction) when you are demanded
Which you like best among us, point out me,
And then pass by, as if you knew me not.

_Gos_. But what will that advantage thee?

_Ger_. O much Sir,
'Twill give me the preheminence of the rest,
Make me a King among 'em, and protect me