BUB. Why, but whither do you mean to go, master?
STAINES. Why, to sea.
BUB. To sea! Lord bless us, methinks I hear of a tempest already. But what will you do at sea?
STAINES. Why, as other gallants do that are spent, turn pirate.
BUB. O master, have the grace of Wapping before your eyes, remember a high tide;[156] give not your friends cause to wet their handkerchiefs.
Nay, master, I'll tell you a better course than so; you and I will go and rob my uncle; if we 'scape, we'll domineer together; if we be taken, we'll be hanged together at Tyburn; that's the warmer gallows of the two.
_Enter_ MESSENGER.
MES. By your leave, sir, whereabouts dwells one Master Bubble?
BUB. Do you hear, my friend? do you know Master Bubble, if you do see him?
MES. No, in truth, do I not.
BUB. What is your business with Master Bubble?
MES. Marry, sir, I come with welcome news to him.
BUB. Tell it, my friend: I am the man.
MES. May I be assured, sir, that your name is Master Bubble?
BUB. I tell thee, honest friend, my name is Master Bubble, Master Bartholomew Bubble.
MES. Why then, sir, you are heir to a million; for your uncle, the rich usurer, is dead.
BUB. Pray thee, honest friend, go to the next haberdasher's, and bid him send me a new melancholy hat, and take thou that for thy labour.
MES. I will, sir. [_Exit._
_Enter another_ MESSENGER _hastily, and knocks_.
BUB. Umh. umh, umh!
STAINES. I would the news were true: see how my little Bubble is blown up with't!
BUB. Do you hear, my friend; for what do you knock there?
2D MES. Marry, sir, I would speak with the worshipful Master Bubble.
BUB. The worshipful! and what would you do with the worshipful Master Bubble? I am the man.
2D MES. I cry your worship mercy then: Master Thong, the belt-maker, sent me to your worship, to give you notice that your uncle is dead, and that you are his only heir. [_Exit._
BUB. Thy news is good, and I have look'd for't long; Thanks unto thee, my friend, and goodman Thong.
_Enter_ MASTER BLANK.
STAINES. Certainly this news is true; for see another: by this light, his scrivener! Now, Master Blank, whither away so fast?
BLANK. Master Staines, God save you. Where is your man?
STAINES. Why, look you, sir; do you not see him?
BLANK. God save the right worshipful Master Bubble; I bring you heavy news with a light heart.
BUB. What are you?
BLANK. I am your worship's poor scrivener.
BUB. He is an honest man, it seems, for he hath both his ears.
BLANK. I am one that your worship's uncle committed some trust in for the putting out of his money, and I hope I shall have the putting out of yours.
BUB. The putting out of mine! Would you have the putting out of my money?
BLANK. Yea, sir.
BUB. No, sir, I am old enough to put out my own money.
BLANK. I have writings of your worship's.
STAINES. As thou lov'st thy profit, hold thy tongue; thou and I will confer. [_Aside._]
BUB. Do you hear, my friend? Can you tell me when and how my uncle died?
BLANK. Yes, sir; he died this morning, and he was killed by a butcher.
BUB. How! by a butcher?
BLANK. Yes indeed, sir; for going this morning into the market to cheapen meat, he fell down stark dead, because a butcher asked him four shillings for a shoulder of mutton.
BUB. How, stark dead! and could not _aqua vitae_ fetch him again?
BLANK. No, sir; nor _rosa solis_ neither; and yet there was trial made of both.
BUB. I shall love _aqua vitae_ and _rosa solis_ the better while I live.
[_Aside._
STAINES. Will it please your worship to accept of my poor service? you know my case is desperate; I beseech you that I may feed upon your bread, though it be of the brownest, and drink of your drink, though it may be of the smallest; for I am humble in body and dejected in mind, and will do your worship as good service for forty shillings a year as another shall for three pounds.
BUB. I will not stand with you for such a matter, because you have been my master; but otherwise I will entertain no man without some knight's or lady's letter for their behaviour. Gervase, I take it, is your Christian name?