Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Uncle, and Merchant.
Unc. Most certain 'tis her hands that hold him up, and her sister relieves Frank.
Mer. I am glad to hear it: but wherefore do they not pursue this fortune to some fair end?
Unc. The women are too craftie, Valentine too coy, and Frank too bashfull, had any wise man hold of such a blessing, they would strike it out o'th' flint but they would form it.
Enter Widow, and Shorthose.
Mer. The Widow sure, why does she stir so early?
Wid. 'Tis strange, I cannot force him to understand me, and make a benefit of what I would bring him: tell my sister I'le use my devotions at home this morning, she may if she please go to Church.
Short. Hey ho.
Wid. And do you wait upon her with a torch Sir.