Val. And that I have no more in this poor Pannier, to raise me up again above your rents, Uncle.

Unc. All this I do believe.

Val. You have no mind to better me.

Unc. Yes, Cousin, and to that end I come, and once more offer you all that my power is master of.

Val. A match then, lay me down fifty pounds there.

Unc. There it is, Sir.

Val. And on it write, that you are pleased to give this, as due unto my merit, without caution of land redeeming, tedious thanks, or thrift hereafter to be hoped for.

Unc. How? [Luce lays a Suit and Letter at the door.

Val. Without daring, when you are drunk, to relish of revilings, to which you are prone in Sack, Uncle.

Unc. I thank you, Sir.

Lance. Come, come away, let the young wanton play a while, away I say, Sir, let him go forward with his naked fashion, he will seek you too morrow; goodly weather, sultry hot, sultry, how I sweat!

Unc. Farewel, Sir. [Exeunt Uncle and Lance.

Val. Would I sweat too, I am monstrous vext, and cold too; and these are but thin pumps to walk the streets in; clothes I must get, this fashion will not fadge with me; besides, ’tis an ill winter wear,—­What art thou? yes, they are clothes, and rich ones, some fool has left ’em:  and if I should utter—­what’s this paper here?  Let these be only worn by the most noble and deserving Gentleman Valentine,—­dropt out o’th’ clouds!  I think they are full of gold too; well, I’le leave my wonder, and be warm again, in the next house I’le shift. [Exit.

Actus Quartus.  Scena Prima.

Enter Francisco, Uncle, and Lance.

Fran. Why do you deal thus with him? ’tis unnobly.

Unc. Peace Cousin peace, you are too tender of him, he must be dealt thus with, he must be cured thus, the violence of his disease Francisco, must not be jested with, ’tis grown infectious, and now strong Corrosives must cure him.

Lance. H’as had a stinger, has eaten off his clothes, the next his skin comes.

Unc. And let it search him to the bones, ’tis better, ’twill make him feel it.

Lance. Where be his noble friends now? will his fantastical opinions cloath him, or the learned Art of having nothing feed him?

Unc. It must needs greedily, for all his friends have flung him off, he is naked, and where to skin himself again, if I know, or can devise how he should get himself lodging, his Spirit must be bowed, and now we have him, have him at that we hoped for.

Lance. Next time we meet him cracking of nuts, with half a cloak about him, for all means are cut off, or borrowing sixpence, to shew his bounty in the pottage Ordinary?

Fran. Which way went he?