He's not of mortal's temper, but he's one
Made all of goodness, though of flesh and bone:
O brother, brother, but for that honest man,
As near to misery had been our breath,
As where the thundering pellet strikes, is death.
THOM. Ay, my shift of shirts and change of clothes know't.
JOHN. We'll tell of him, like bells whose music rings
On coronation-day for joy of kings,
That hath preserv'd their steeples, not like tolls,
That summons living tears for the dead souls.
Enter BUTLER and ILFORD above[412].
BUT. God's precious, see the hell, sir: even as you had new-kissed, and were about to court her, if her uncles be not come.
ILF. A plague on the spite on't.
BUT. But 'tis no matter, sir; stay you here in this upper chamber, and I'll stay beneath with her: 'tis ten to one you shall hear them talk now of the greatness of her possessions, the care they have to see her well-bestowed, the admirableness of her virtues, all which for all their coming shall be but happiness ordained for you, and by my means be your inheritance.
ILF. Then thou'lt shift them away, and keep me from the sight of them?
BUT. Have I not promised to make you?
ILF. Thou hast.