Fran. Peace, I know you are angry Lance, but I must not hear with whom, he is my Brother, and though you hold him slight, my most dear Brother: A Gentleman, excepting some few rubs, he were too excellent to live here else, fraughted as deep with noble and brave parts, the issues of a noble and manly Spirit, as any he alive. I must not hear you; though I am miserable, and he made me so, yet still he is my Brother, still I love him, and to that tye of blood link my affections.
Isab. A noble nature! dost thou know him Luce?
Luce. No, Mistress.
Isab. Thou shouldest ever know such good men, what a fair body and mind are married! did he not say he wanted?
Luce. What's that to you?
Isab. 'Tis true, but 'tis great pity.
Luce. How she changes! ten thousand more than he, as handsom men too.
Isab. 'Tis like enough, but as I live, this Gentleman among ten thousand thousand! is there no knowing him? why should he want? fellows of no merit, slight and puft souls, that walk like shadows, by leaving no print of what they are, or poise, let them complain.
Luce. Her colour changes strangely.
Isab. This man was made, to mark his wants to waken us; alas poor Gentleman, but will that keep him from cold and hunger, believe me he is well bred, and cannot be but of a noble linage, mark him, mark him well.