I hope this day is fatal unto some,
And by their loss must Bagot seek to gain.
This is the lodging of master Friskiball,
A liberal Merchant, and a Florentine,
To whom Banister owes a thousand pound,
A Merchant Banckrout, whose Father was my master.
What do I care for pity or regard?
He once was wealthy, but he now is fallen,
And this morning have I got him arrested,
At the suit of master Friskiball,
And by this means shall I be sure of coin,
For doing this same good to him unknown:
And in good time, see where the merchant comes.

[Enter Friskiball.]

BAGOT.
Good morrow to kind master Friskiball.

FRISKIBALL.
Good morrow to your self, good master Bagot,
And what's the news, you are so early stirring:
It is for gain, I make no doubt of that.

BAGOT.
It is for the love, sir, that I bear to you.
When did you see your debtor Banister?

FRISKIBALL.
I promise you, I have not seen the man