you, Sir, in lieu of all your understandings, travels,
and those great gifts of nature, aim at no more than casting off your
Coats? I am strangely cozen'd.

_Lance._ Should not the Town shake at the cold you feel now, and
all the Gentry suffer interdiction, no more sense spoken, all things
_Goth_ and _Vandal_, till you be summed again, Velvets and Scarlets,
anointed with gold Lace, and Cloth of silver turned into _Spanish_
Cottens for a penance, wits blasted with your Bulls and Taverns withered,
as though the Term lay at _St. Albans_?

_Val._ Gentlemen, you have spoken long and level, I beseech you
take breath a while and hear me; you imagine now, by the twirling of
your strings, that I am at the last, as also that my friends are flown
like Swallows after Summer.

_Unc._ Yes, Sir.

_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 unno