Seb. A notable brave boy.
Hyl. I am very well, Sir.
Tho. Thou shalt be better, Hylas, thou hast 7 hundred pound a year,
And thou shalt make her 3 hundred joynture.
Hyl. No.
Tho. Thou shalt boy, and shalt bestow
Two hundred pound in Cloaths, look on her,
A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred,
And feasible: strike hands, or I'le strike first.
Dor. You'l let me like?
Mar. He's a good handsome fellow,
Play not the fool.
Tho. Strike, Brother Hylas, quickly.
Hyl. If you can love me, well.
Dor. If you can please me.