Brew. How fare ye, gentlemen? what cheer, sir knight?
Speed. An adventurer still, sir, to this new-found land.[95]
Lamb. He sails about the point, sir; but he cannot put in yet.
Brew. The wind may turn, sir. [To Stephen.] A word, Master Foster. [They converse apart.
Lamb. You see, Sir Speedwell, what card is turned up for trump; I hold my life, this spruce citizen will forestall the market: O, these brisk factors are notable firkers.
Speed. I doubt, sir, he will play the merchant[96] with us.
Brew. They both are suitors, sir, yet both shoot wide;
My daughter, sure, must be your kinsman's bride.
Steph. I'll give her a wedding-ring on that condition,
And put a stone in't worth a thousand pound, sir.
Brew. You have my hand and heart to't, be she pleased so.
Lamb. 'Sfoot! let's show ourselves gallants or gallymawfries:[97] shall we be outbraved by a cockney? [To Robert.] A word, my fair Zenocrates; do you see, sir, here be those that have gone a-fishing, and can give you a gudgeon?