Unc. 'Tis not he, imagination cannot work this miracle.
Val. Yes, yes, 'tis he, I will assure you Uncle, the very he, the he your wisdom plaid withall, I thank you for't, neighed at his nakednesse, and made his cold and poverty your pastime; you see I live, and the best can do no more Uncle, and though I have no state, I keep the streets still, and take my pleasure in the Town, like a poor Gentleman, wear clothes to keep me warm, poor things they serve me, can make a shew too if I list, yes uncle, and ring a peal in my pockets, ding dong, uncle, these are mad foolish wayes, but who can help 'em?
Unc. I am amazed.
Lan. I'le sell my Copyhold, for since there are such excellent new nothings, why should I labour? is there no Fairy haunts him, no Rat, nor no old woman?
Unc. You are Valentine.
Val. I think so, I cannot tell, I have been call'd so, and some say Christened, why do you wonder at me, and swell, as if you had met a Sergeant fasting, did you ever know desert want? y'are fools, a little stoop there may be to allay him, he would grow too rank else, a small eclipse to shadow him, but out he must break, glowingly again, and with a great lustre, look you uncle, motion and majesty.
Unc. I am confounded.
Fran. I am of his faith.
Val. Walk by his careless kinsman, and turn again and walk, and look thus Uncle, taking some one by the hand, he loves best, leave them to the mercy of the hog-market, come Frank, Fortune is now my friend, let me instruct thee.
Fran. Good morrow Uncle, I must needs go with him.