1 Gent. Why Sir, for what?
4 Gent. My Sire's of a strange humor,
He'll form faults for me, and then swear 'em mine,
And commonly the first begins with leachery,
He knows his own youths trespass.
1 Gent. Before you go,
I'll come and take my leave, and tell you all Sirs.
3 Gent. Thou wert ever just and kind. [Exit.
1 Gent. That's my poor virtue, Sir,
And parcel valiant; but it's hard to be perfect:
The choosing of these fellows now will puzle me,
Horribly puzle me; and there's no judgement
Goes true upon mans outside, there's the mischief:
He must be touch'd, and try'd, for gold or dross;
There is no other way for't, and that's dangerous too;
But since I'm put in trust, [I] will attempt it:
The Duke shall keep one daring man about him.
Enter a Gallant.
Soft, who comes here? a pretty bravery this:
Every one goes so like a Gentleman,
'Tis hard to find a difference, but by th' touch.
I'll try your mettal sure.
Gal. Why what do you mean Sir?
1 Gent. Nay, and you understand it not, I do not.