SCENE II.

The Warehouse,

Enter KITELY and CASH.

Kite. What says he, Thomas? Did you speak with him?

Cash. He will expect you, sir, within this half

hour.

Kite. Has he the money ready, can you tell? Cash. Yes, sir, the money was brought in last

night.

Kite. Oh, that's well: fetch me my cloak.

[Exit CASH. Stay, let me see, an hour to go and come; Ay, that will be the least; and then 'twill be An hour before I can despatch with him, Or very near: well, I will say two hours.Two hours! Ha! Things never dreamt of yet May be contriv'd, ay, and effected too, In two hours absence. Well, I will not go. Two hours; no, fleering opportunity, I will not give your subtlety that scope. Who will not judge him worthy to be robb'd, That sets his doors wide open to a thief, And shows the felon where his treasure lies? Again, what earthly spirit but will attempt To taste the fruit of beauty's golden tree, When leaden sleep seals up the dragon's eyes? I will not go. Business, go by for once. No, beauty, no; you are too, too precious To be left so without a guard.

He, that lends'

His wife, if she be fair, or time or place,
Compels her to be false. I will not go.

Enter CASH.

Carry in my cloak again.—Yet, stay.-Yet do, too. I will defer going on all occasions.

Cash. Sir, Snare, your scrivener, will be there with

the bonds.

Kite. That's true: fool on me! I had clean forgot it! I must go.-What's o'clock ?

Cash. Exchange time, sir.

Kite. 'Heart! then will Wellbred presently be here too,

With one or other of his loose consorts.

I am a knave, if I know what to say,
What course to take, or which way to resolve.
My brain, methinks, is like an hour-glass,
Wherein my imagination runs, like sands,
Filling up time; but then are turn'd and turn'd;
So that I know not what to stay upon,
And less to put in act.-It shall be so-
Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy,

He knows not to deceive me.

Cash. Sir,

Thomas!

Kite. Yet now, I have bethought me too, I will

not

Thomas, is Cob within?

Cash. I think he be, sir.

Kite. But he'll prate too, there's no speech of him. No, there were no man o'the earth to Thomas, If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt. But should he have a chink in him, I were gone, Lost in my fame for ever; talk for th' Exchange. The manner he hath stood with, till this present, Doth promise no such change! What should I fear then?

Well, come what will, I'll tempt my fortune once.--

Thomas-you may deceive me, but I hope

Your love to me is more

Cash. Sir, if a servant's

Duty, with faith, may be call'd love, you are
More than in hope, you are possess'd of it.

Kite. I thank you heartily, Thomas; gi' me your hand.

With all my heart, good Thomas. I have, Thomas, A secret to impart to you- -but,

When once you have it, I must seal your lips up. So far I tell you, Thomas.

Cash. Sir, for that

Kite. Nay, hear me out. Think, I esteem you, Thomas,

When I will let you in, thus to my private.

It is a thing sits nearer to my crest,

Than thou'rt aware of, Thomas. If thou shouldst Reveal it, but

Cash. How! I reveal it!

Kite. Nay,

I do not think thou wouldst; but if thou shouldst, 'Twere a great weakness.

Cash. A great treachery:

Give it no other name.

Kite. Thou wilt not do't then?

Cash. Sir, if I do, mankind disclaim me ever.
Kite. He will not swear; he has some reservation,
Some conceal'd purpose, and close meaning, sure;
Else, being urg'd so much, how should he chuse,
But lend an oath to all this protestation ?
He's no fanatic, I have heard him swear.
What should I think of it? Urge him again,
And by some other way? I will do so.--

Well, Thomas, thou hast sworn not to disclose;
Yes, you did swear.

Cash. Not yet, sir, but I will,

Please you

Kite. No, Thomas, I dare take thy word;

But if thou wilt swear, do, as thou think'st good;
I am resolv'd without it; at thy pleasure.

Cash. By my soul's safety, then, sir, I protest
My tongue shall ne'er take knowledge of a word,
Deliver'd me in nature of your trust.

Kite. It's too much; these ceremonies need not; I know thy faith to be as firm as rock. Thomas, come hither—nearer; we cannot be Too private in this business. So it is.Now he has sworn, I dare the safelier venture: I have of late, by divers observations— But whether his oath can bind him, there it is; Being not taken lawfully ?-ha-say you? I will bethink me ere I do proceed.Thomas, it will be now too long to stay, I'll spy some fitter time soon, or to-morrow. Cash. Sir, at your pleasure.

Kite. I will think-Give me my cloak-And, Tho

mas,

I pray you search the books 'gainst my return,
For the receipts 'twixt me and Traps.

Cash. I will, sir.

Kite. And, hear you, if your mistress' brother, Wellbred,

Chance to bring hither any gentlemen,

Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word.
Cash. Very well, sir.

Kite. To the Exchange; do you hear?

Or here in Coleman Street, to Justice Clement's.
Forget it not, nor be out of the way.

Cash. I will not, sir.

Kite. I pray you, have a care on't.

Or whether he come or no, if any other
Stranger, or else, fail not to send me word.
Cash. I shall not, sir.

Kite. Be't your special business
Now to remember it.

Cash. Sir, I warrant you.

Kite. But, Thomas, this is not the secret, Thomas,

I told

you of.

Cash, No, sir, I do suppose it.

Kite. Believe me, it is not.

Cash. Sir, I do believe you.

Kite. By Heaven, it is not! That's enough. But,
Thomas,

I would not you should utter it, do you see,
To any creature living; yet I care not.

Well, I must hence. Thomas, conceive thus much;
It was a trial of you; when I meant

So deep a secret to you, I meant not this,

But that I have to tell you. This is nothing, this. But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you. Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here,

No greater hell than to be slave to fear.

Erit.

Cash. Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here. Whence should this flood of passion, trow, take. head?

But soft,

Here is company; now must I

[Exit.

Enter WELLBRED, YOUNG KNO'WELL, BRAIN WORM, BOBADIL, and STEPHEN.

Well. Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good jest, and exceedingly well carried.

Y. Kno. Ay, and our ignorance maintained it as well, did it not!

Well. Yes, faith! But was't possible thou shouldst not know him? I forgive Mr. Stephen, for he is stupidity itself.--Why, Brainworm, who would have thought thou hadst been such an artificer ?

Y. Kno. An artificer! An architect! Except a man has studied begging all his lifetime, and been a weaver of language from his infancy, for the clothing of it, I never saw his rival.