_Die_.
I do good Gentlemen,
And I bequeath you both good careful Surgions,
A Legacy, you have need of, more than mony,
I know you want good Diets, and good Lotions,
And in your pleasures, good take heed.
_Lop_.
He raves now,
But 'twill be quickly off.
_Die_.
I do bequeath ye
Commodities of Pins, Brown-papers, Pack-threads,
Rost Pork, and Puddings, Ginger-bread, and Jews-trumps,
Of penny Pipes, and mouldy Pepper, take 'em,
Take 'em even where you please and be cozen'd with 'em,
I should bequeath ye Executions also,
But those I'le leave to th' Law.
_Lop_.
Now he grows temperate.
_Bar_.
You will give no more?
_Die_.
I am loth to give more from ye,
Because I know you will have a care to execute.
Only, to pious uses, Sir, a little.
_Bar_.
If he be worth all these, I am made for ever.
_Die_.
I give to fatal Dames, that spin mens threads out,
And poor distressed Damsels, that are militant
As members of our own Afflictions,
A hundred Crowns to buy warm Tubs to work in,
I give five hundred pounds to buy a Church-yard,
A spacious Church-yard, to lay Thieves and Knaves in,
Rich men and honest men take all the room up.
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