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ACT. II. SCENE. IV.
MERE-CRAFT. FITZ-DOTTRELL. INGINE.
WHere are you, Sir?
FIT.
I see thou hast no talent
This way, wi••e. Vp to thy gallery; doe, Chuck,
Leaue vs to talke of it, who vnderstand it.
MER.
I thinke we ha' found a place to fit you, now, Sir.
Gloc'ster.
FIT.
O, no, I'll none!
MER.
Why, Sr?
FIT.
Tis fatall.
MER.
That you say right in. Spenser, I thinke, the younger,
Had his last honour thence. But, he was but Earle.
FIT
I know not that, Sir. But Thomas of Woodstock••,
I'm sure, was Duke, and he was made away,
At Calice; as Duke Humphrey was at Bury:
And Richard the third, you know what end he came too.
MER.
By m'faith you are cunning i'the Chronicle, Sir.
FIT.
No, I confesse I ha't from the Play-bookes,
And thinke they'are more authentique.
ING.
That's sure, Sir.
MER.
He whispers him of a place.
What say you (to this then)
FIT.
No, a noble house.
Pretends to that. I will doe no man wrong.
MER.
Then take one proposition more, and heare it
As past exception.
FIT.
What's that?
MER.
To be
Duke of those lands, you shall recouer: take
Your title, thence, Sir, Duke of the Drown'd-lands,
Or Drown'd-land.
FIT.
Ha? that last has a good sound!
I like it well. The Duke of Drown'd-land?
ING.
Yes;
It goes like Groen-land, Sir, if you marke it.
MER.
I,
And drawing thus your honour from the worke,
You make the reputation of that, greater;
And stay't the longer i'your name.
FIT.
'Tis true.
Drown'd-lands will liue in Drown'd-land!
MER.
Yes, when you
Ha' no foote left; as that must be, Sir, one day.
And, though it tarry in your heyres, some forty,
Fifty descents, the longer liuer, at last, yet,
Must thrust 'hem out on't: if no quirk in law,
Or odde Vice o'their owne not do'it first.
Wee see those changes, daily: the faire lands,
That were the Clyents, are the Lawyers, now:
And those rich Mannors, there, of good man Taylors,
Had once more wood vpon 'hem, then the yard,