Unc. There it is, Sir.
Val. And on it write, that you are pleased to give this, as due unto my merit, without caution of land redeeming, tedious thanks, or thrift hereafter to be hoped for.
Unc. How? [Luce lays a Suit and Letter at the door.
Val. Without daring, when you are drunk, to relish of revilings, to which you are prone in Sack, Uncle.
Unc. I thank you, Sir.
Lance. Come, come away, let the young wanton play a while, away I say, Sir, let him go forward with his naked fashion, he will seek you too morrow; goodly weather, sultry hot, sultry, how I sweat!
Unc. Farewel, Sir. [Exeunt Uncle and Lance.
Val. Would I sweat too, I am monstrous vext, and cold too; and these are but thin pumps to walk the streets in; clothes I must get, this fashion will not fadge with me; besides, 'tis an ill winter wear,—What art thou? yes, they are clothes, and rich ones, some fool has left 'em: and if I should utter—what's this paper here? Let these be only worn by the most noble and deserving Gentleman Valentine,—dropt out o'th' clouds! I think they are full of gold too; well, I'le leave my wonder, and be warm again, in the next house I'le shift. [Exit.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Francisco, Uncle, and Lance.