THEO. Come, neighbours, pray draw near; my fellow Jasper Has told you wherefore you were sent for hither.
THEO. My master, touch'd with sorrow and remorse For that unhappy error of his life-- That fault (alas!) which by too true a name Is termed misery, determines now By deeds of tender charity to make The wronged poor amends, and to the world Declare the fruits of a reformed life. And first your pardon, neighbours, he would beg, And, next to heaven, be reconcil'd to you.
3D NEIGH. I ever thought him a right honest man.
THEO. He that before did churlishly engross And lock those blessings up, which from the hand Of heaven were shower'd upon him, has at last Found their true use, and will henceforth redeem The former misspent time. His wealthy stores Shall be no longer shut against the poor; His bags seal'd up no longer, to debar The course of fitting bounty. To you all, Of corn and money, weekly he'll allow In recompense a greater quantity By far than men of greater rank shall do: Nor will he come himself to take your thanks, Till, as he says, he has deserv'd them better. Meantime, by me he pours his bounty forth, Which he desires with greatest secrecy May be perform'd; for all vainglorious shows And ostentation does his soul abhor. He sounds no trumpet to bestow his alms; Nor in the streets proclaims his charity, Which makes the virtue vice; nor would he have The world take notice of you at his doors.
2D NEIGH. Ah, neighbour! Some in the world have been mistaken in him.
THEO. Nor would he have you blaze his bounty forth, And praise him openly: forbear it, neighbours; Your private prayers only he desires And hearty wishes; for true charity, Though ne'er so secret, finds a just reward. I am his servant, newly entertain'd, But one to whom he does commit the trust Of his desires in this; and I should wrong His goodness strangely, if I should keep The least of what his bounty doth intend. Come in with me; I'll fill your sacks with corn, And let you see what money he bestows.
OMNES NEIGH. We'll pray to heaven to reward his goodness.
BAR. He is, and just As Dotterels[16] used to be: the lady first Advanc'd toward him, stretch'd forth her wing, and he Met her with all expressions; and he's caught As fast in her lime-twigs as he can be, Until the church confirm it.