of Feuershame.
Will.
What apparell had he,
Brad.
A watchet sattin doublet all to torne,
The inner side did beare the greater show,
A paire of threed bare Ueluet hose seame rent,
A wosted stockin rent aboue the shoe,
A liuery cloake, but all the lace was of,
Twas bad, but yet it serued to hide the plate,
Will.
Sirra Shakebagge, canst thou remember
Since we trould the boule at Sittingburgh,
Where I broke the Tapsters head of the Lyon
With a Cudgill sticke?
Shak.
I very well Will.
Will.
Why it was with the money that the plate was sould for:
Sirra Bradshaw what wilt thou giue him
That can tell thee who soulde thy plate?
Brad.
Who I pray thee good Will,
Will.
Why twas one Iacke Fitten,
He's now in Newgate, for stealing a horse,
And shall be arrainde the next sise.
Brad.
Why then, let Lord Cheiny seek Iack Fitte forth
For Ile backe and tell him, who robbed him of his plate,
This cheeres my hart M. Greene, Ile leaue you,
For I must to the Ile of Sheppy with speede.
Greene
Before you go let me intreat you
To carry this letter to mistres Arden of Feuershame,
And humbly recommend me to her selfe.
Brad.
That will I M. Grene, and so farewell.
Heere Will, theres a Crowne for thy good newes.
Exit Bradshawe.
Will.
Farewell Bradshaw,
Ile drinke no water for thy sake, whilest this lasts:
Now gentleman, shall we haue your company to London.
Gre.
Nay stay sirs, a lytle more I needs muste vse your helpe,
And in a matter of great consequence,
Wherein if youle be secret and profound,
Ile giue you twenty Angels for your paines.
