F. Well, what doth all this come to when ’tis told?
First is Diana’s love. Diana’s love
Is nothing, for I do not love Diana.
Next are the ducats: fifty thousand ducats.
They are nothing either—by the year! Why, Laura,
Were’t fifty thousand ducats by the day
’Twere nothing to me. You can little guess
My prodigal soul. I should expend it all
And sit at home and be as poor as ever.
L. How could you spend so much?