housand Acres, fair and open: The
Kings-Bench is enclos'd, there's no good riding, the Counter is full
of thorns and brakes, take heed Sir, and boggs, you'l quickly find what
broth they're made of.

_Val._ Y'are short and pithy.

_Lance._ They say y'are a fine Gentleman, and of excellent
judgement, they report you have a wit; keep your self out o'th' Rain,
and take your Cloak with you, which by interpretation is your State,
Sir, or I shall think your fame belied you, you have money, and may
have means.

_Val._ I prethee leave prating, does my good lye within thy brain
to further, or my undoing in thy pity? go, go, get you home, there
whistle to your Horses, and let them edifie; away, sow Hemp to hang your
selves withal: what am I to you, or you to me; am I your Landlord,
puppies?

_Unc._ This is uncivil.

_Val._ More unmerciful you, to vex me with these Bacon
Broth and Puddings, they are the walking shapes of all my
sorrows.

_3 Tenants._ Your Fathers Worship would have used us better.

_Val._ My Fathers Worship was a Fool.

_Lance._ Hey, hey boys, old _Valentine_ i'faith, the old boy still.

_Unc._ Fie Cousin.

_Val._ I mean besotted to his state, he had never left me the
misery of so much means else, which till I sold, was a meer meagrim to
me: If you will talk, turn out these Tenants, they are as killing to my
nature Uncle, as water to a Feaver.

_Lance._ We will go, but it is like Rams, to come again the
stronger, and you shall keep your state.

_Val._ Thou lyest, I will not.

_Lance._ Sweet Sir, thou lyest, thou shalt, and so good morrow.
[_Exeunt_ Tenants.

_Val._ This was my man, and of a noble breeding: now to your
business Uncle.

_Unc._ To your state then.

_Val._ 'Tis gone, and I am glad on't, name it no more, 'tis that
I pray against, and Heaven has heard me, I tell you, Sir, I am more
fearful of it, I mean, of thinking of more lands, or livings, than
sickly men are travelling o' Sundays, for being quell'd with Carriers;
out upon't, _caveat emptor_, let the fool out-sweat it, that thinks
he has got a catch on't.

_Unc._ This is madness to be a wilful begger.

_Val._ I am mad then, and so I mean to be, will that content you?
How bravely now I live, how jocund, how near the first inheritance,
without fears, how free from title-troubles!

_Unc._ And from means too.

_Val._ Means? why all good men's my means; my wit's my Plow, the
Town's my stock, Tavern's my standing-house, and all