Aur. 'Tis strange
That only empty names compel affections:
This man, ye see, give him what name or title,
Let it be ne're so poor, ne're so despis'd, Brother,
This lovely man.—
Max. Though I be hang'd, I'le forward:
For, certain, I am excellent, and knew not.
Aur. This rare and sweet young man, see how he looks, Sir.
Max. I'le justle hard, dear Uncle.
Aur. This thing, I say,
Let him be what he will, or bear what fortune,
This most unequall'd man, this spring of beauty
Deserves the bed of Juno.
Cha. You are not mad.
Max. I hope she be; I am sure I am little better.
Aur. O fair, sweet man!
Cha. For shame refrain this impudence.
Max. Would I had her alone, that I might seal this blessing:
Sure, sure she should not beg: if this continue,
As I hope, Heaven, it will; Uncle, I'le nick ye,
I'le nick ye, by this life. Some would fear killing
In the pursuit now of so rare a venture;