Wid. Good twelve i'th' hundred keep your way, I am not for your diet, marry in your own Tribe Jew, and get a Broker.
Young Lo. 'Tis well said Widow: will you jog on Sir?
More. Yes, I will go, but 'tis no matter whither: But when I trust a wild Fool, and a Woman, May I lend Gratis, and build Hospitals.
Young Lo. Nay good Sir, make all even, here's a Widow wants your good word for me, she's rich, and may renew me and my fortunes.
Elder Lo. I am glad you look before you. Gentlewoman, here is a poor distressed younger Brother.
Wid. You do him wrong Sir, he's a Knight.
Elder Lo. I ask you mercy: yet 'tis no matter, his Knighthood is no inheritance I take it: whatsoever he is, he is your Servant, or would be, Lady. Faith be not merciless, but make a man; he's young and handsome, though he be my Brother, and his observances may deserve your Love: he shall not fail for means.
Wid. Sir you speak like a worthy Brother: and so much I do credit your fair Language, that I shall love your Brother: and so love him, but I shall blush to say more.
Elder Lo. Stop her mouth. I hope you shall not live to know that hour when this shall be repented. Now Brother I should chide, but I'le give no distaste to your fair Mistress. I will instruct her in't and she shall do't: you have been wild and ignorant, pray mend it.
Young Lo. Sir, every day now Spring comes on.