The things we do!

And where, if not amongst religious men,
Shoold we find that's calld charity?
_Scrib_. Thether, then:
Lett[75] us make hast with all the speede we can:
Fyre at the least I hope it [is?] well assured,
Besydes releiffe and harbor.
_Pal_. Can you begge?
_Scrib_. What will not rude necessity compell
Distressed folke to doo? We'll not doo't basely,
For beinge brought upp to musick and to sing,
Demandinge in that kind there charity,
And they perceivinge us much better bred
Then these our present fortunes might deserve,
May move in them compassions.
_Pal_. Lett's retyre
To the backe gate then, there complane our wants
And that which others doo with impudence
Lett us in shame and blushes.
_Scrib_. Som sweete echo
Speake from these walls and answer to our wants,
And eather lend som comfort to our grieffs
Or send us hence dispayringe and asham'd.
[_They go in_.
_Pal_. _Oh charity where art thou fled,
And nowe how longe hast thou been dead?
Answer within. Oh many many many hundred yeares
Scrib.


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