Rut. 'Tis gold I'm sure.
Arn. We must like brothers share; There's for you.
Rut. By this light I'm glad I have it:
There are few Gallants, (for men may be such
And yet want gold, yea and sometimes silver)
But would receive such favours from the Devil,
Though he appear'd like a Broker, and demanded
Sixty i'th' hundred.
Arn. Wherefore should I fear
Some plot upon my life? 'tis now to me
Not worth the keeping. I will follow him,
Farewel, wish me good fortune, we shall meet
Again I doubt not.
Rut. Or I'le ne're trust Jew more, [Exit Arnoldo. Nor Christian for his sake—plague o' my stars, How long might I have walkt without a Cloak, Before I should have met with such a fortune? We elder Brothers, though we are proper men, Ha' not the luck, ha' too much beard, that spoils us; The smooth Chin carries all: what's here to do now? [Manet Rutilio.
Enter Duarte, Alonzo, and a Page.
Dua. I'le take you as I find you.
Alon. That were base—you see I am unarm'd.
Dua. Out with your Bodkin
Your Pocket-dagger, your Steletto, out with it,
Or by this hand I'le kill you: such as you are
Have studied the undoing of poor Cutlers,
And made all manly weapons out of fashion:
You carry Poniards to murder men,
Yet dare not wear a sword to guard your Honour.
Rut. That's true indeed: upon my life this gallant Is brib'd to repeal banisht swords.