Jac. His words his bond, and does not break that bond To bankrupt others; he makes you not a library Of large monopolie to cosen all men: Subintelligitur, he hates to deale With such portentious othes as furr his mouth In the deliverance.
Enter Jouanny.
Ga. Hee comes himselfe.
Jou. Sir Galeas, if I mistake not?
Ga. I weare my fathers name, sir.
Jou. And tis a dignity to weare that name. Whatts your affairs in Parma?
Ga. To visit you, sir.
Jou. Gladness nor sorrow never paid mans debts.
—Your pleasure, sir?
Ga. The livery of my griefe: my fathers dead
And mee hath made his poore executor.
Jou. What? ought hee ten thousand duckets?
Thy fathers face fixt in thy front
Should be the paymaster tho from my hand.