Bell. With all my heart, since Heaven will have me poor,
As good be drowned at sea, as drowned at shore.
Orl. Why, hear you, sir? i’faith do not make away her gown.
Mat. Oh! it’s summer, it’s summer; your only fashion for a woman now is to be light, to be light.
Orl. Why, pray sir, employ some of that money you have of mine.
Mat. Thine? I’ll starve first, I’ll beg first; when I touch a penny of that, let these fingers’ ends rot.
Orl. So they may, for that’s past touching. I saw my twenty pounds fly high. [Aside.
Mat. Knowest thou never a damned broker about the city?
Orl. Damned broker? yes, five hundred.
Mat. The gown stood me in above twenty ducats, borrow ten of it. Cannot live without silver.
Orl. I’ll make what I can of it, sir, I’ll be your broker,—
But not your damned broker: Oh thou scurvy knave!
What makes a wife turn whore, but such a slave? [Aside and exit with Bellafront’s gown.