Sugar-chest?
Or lists of Velvet? which is't pound, or yard,
You vent your Gentry by?

_Hub_. O _Hemskirk_, fye.

_Van_. Come, do not mind 'em, drink, he is no _Wolfort_,
Captain, I advise you.

_Hem_. Alas, my pretty man,
I think't be angry, by its look: Come hither,
Turn this way, a little: if it were the blood
Of _Charlemaine_, as't may (for ought I know)
Be some good Botchers issue, here in _Bruges_.

_Gos_. How?

_Hem_. Nay: I'me not certain of that; of this I am,
If it once buy, and sell, its Gentry is gone.

_Gos_. Ha, ha.

_Hem._ You are angry, though ye laugh.

_Gos._ No, now 'tis pity
Of your poor argument. Do not you, the Lords
Of Land (if you be any) sell the grass,
The Corn, the Straw, the Milk, the Cheese?

_Van._ And Butter:
Remember Butter; do not leave out Butter.

_Gos._ The Beefs and Muttons that your grounds are stor'd with?
Swine, with the very mast, beside the Woods?

_Hem._ No, for those sordid uses we have Tenants,
Or else our Bailiffs.

_Gos._ Have not we, Sir, Chap-men,
And Factors, then to answer these? your honour
Fetch'd from the Heralds _ABC_, and said over
With your Court faces, once an hour, shall never
Make me mistake my self. Do not your Lawyers
Sell all their practice, as your Priests their prayers?
What is not bought, and sold? The company
That you had last, what had you for't, i'faith?

_Hem._ You now grow sawcy.

_Gos._ Sure I have been bred
Still, with my honest liberty, and must use it.

_Hem._ Upon your equals then.

_Gos._ Sir, he that will
Provoke me first, doth make himself my equal.

_Hem._ Do ye hear? no more.

_Gos._ Yes, Sir, this little, I pray you,
And't shall be aside, then after, as you please.
You appear the Uncle, Sir, to her I love
More than mine eyes; and I have heard your scorns
With so much scoffing, and so much shame,
As each strive which is greater: But, believe me,
I suck'd not in this patience with my milk.
Do not presume, because you see me young,
Or cast despights on my profession
For the civility and tameness of it.
A good man bears a contumely worse
Than he would do an injury. Proceed not
To my offence: wrong is not still successful,
Indeed it is not: I would approach your Kins-woman
With all respect, done to your self and her.

_Hem._ Away Companion: handling her? take that. [_Strikes him._

_Gos._ Nay, I do love no blows, Sir, there's exchange.

_Hub._ Hold, Sir. (_He gets_ Hemskirks _sword and cuts him