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Section 122
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Rich.
He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt,
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends,
Our selfe, and Bushy, heere Bagot and Greene
Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:
How he did seeme to diue into their hearts,
With humble, and familiar courtesie,
What reuerence he did throw away on slaues;
Wooing poore Craftes‑men, with the craft of soules,
And patient vnder‑bearing of his Fortune,
As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster‑wench,
A brace of Dray‑men bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends,