Old K. And that's not worth a groat,
How like you him Neece?
Neece. It shall appear how well, Sir,
I humbly thank you for him.
Old K. Hah? ha, good gullery, he does it well i'faith,
Light, as if he meant to purchase Lip-land there:
Hold, hold, bear off I say, slid your part hangs too long.
Cun. My joys are mockeries.
Neece. Y'have both exprest a worthy care and love, Sir,
Had mine own eye been set at liberty,
To make a publick choice (believe my truth, Sir)
It could not ha' done better for my heart
Than your good providence has.
Old K. You will say so then,
Alas sweet Neece, all this is but the scabbard,
Now I draw forth the weapon.
Neece. How?
Old K. Sir Gregory,
Approach thou lad of thousands.
Enter Sir Gregory.
Sir Gr. Who calls me?