ow.

_Lan._ And fall by--

_Fran._ Peace, I know you are angry _Lance_, but I must not
hear with whom, he is my Brother, and though you hold him slight, my
most dear Brother: A Gentleman, excepting some few rubs, he were too
excellent to live here else, fraughted as deep with noble and brave
parts, the issues of a noble and manly Spirit, as any he alive. I must
not hear you; though I am miserable, and he made me so, yet still he
is my Brother, still I love him, and to that tye of blood link my
affections.

_Isab._ A noble nature! dost thou know him _Luce_?

_Luce._ No, Mistress.

_Isab._ Thou shouldest ever know such good men, what a fair body
and mind are married! did he not say he wanted?

_Luce._ What's that to you?

_Isab._ 'Tis true, but 'tis great pity.

_Luce._ How she changes! ten thousand more than he, as handsom men too.

_Isab._ 'Tis like enough, but as I live, this Gentleman among ten
thousand thousand! is there no knowing him? why should he want? fellows
of no merit, slight and puft souls, that walk like shadows, by leaving
no print of what they are, or poise, let them complain.

_Luce._ Her colour changes strangely.

_Isab._ This man was made, to mark his wants to waken us; alas poor
Gentleman, but will that keep him from cold and hunger, believe me he is
well bred, and cannot be but of a noble linage, mark him, mark him well.

_Luce._ 'Is a handsom man.

_Isab._ The sweetness of his sufferance sets him off, O _Luce_, but
whither go I?

_Luce._ You cannot hide it.

_Isab._ I would he had what I can spare.

_Luce._ 'Tis charitable.

_Lance._ Come Sir, I'le see you lodg'd, you have tied my tongue
fast, I'le steal before you want, 'tis but a hanging.

_Isab._ That's a good fellow too, an honest fellow, why, this would
move a stone, I must needs know; but that some other time.
[_Exit_ Lance, _and_ Franc.

_Luce._ Is the wind there? that makes for me.

_Isab._ Come, I forgot a business.

_Actus [Secundus]. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Widow, _and_ Luce.

_Wid._ My sister, and a woman of so base a pity! what was the
fellow?

_Luce,_ Why, an ordinary man, Madam.

_Wid._ Poor?

_Luce._ Poor enough, and no man knows from whence neither.

_Wid._ What could she see?

_Luce._ Only his misery, for else she might behold a hundred handsomer.

_Wid._ Did she change much?

_Luce._ Extreamly, when he spoke, and then her pity, like an
Orator, I fear her love framed such a commendat