_Gos._ Faith, thou must lose thy Master.

_Ger._ I had rather lose my neck, Sir: would I knew--

_Gos._ What would the knowledg do thee good so miserable,
Thou canst not help thy self? when all my ways
Nor all the friends I have--

_Ger._ You do not know Sir,
What I can do: cures sometimes, for mens cares
Flow, where they least expect 'em.

_Gos._ I know thou wouldst do,
But farewell _Clause_, and pray for thy poor Master.

_Ger._ I will not leave ye.

_Gos._ How?

_Ger._ I dare not leave ye, Sir, I must not leave ye,
And till ye beat me dead, I will not leave ye.
By what ye hold most precious, by Heavens goodness,
As your fair youth may prosper, good Sir tell me:
My mind believes yet something's in my power
May ease you of this trouble.

_Gos._ I will tell thee,
For a hundred thousand crowns upon my credit,
Taken up of Merchants to supply my traffiques,