Gra. Y' are welcome, sir.
Ven. The next[36] of Italy commends him to you,
Our mighty expectation, the duke's son.
Gra. I think myself much honour'd that he pleases
To rank me in his thoughts.
Ven. So may you, lady:
One that is like to be our sudden duke;
The crown gapes for him every tide, and then
Commander o'er us all; do but think on him.
How bless'd were they, now that could pleasure him—
E'en with anything almost?
Gra. Ay, save their honour.
Ven. Tut, one would let a little of that go too,
And ne'er be seen in't—ne'er be seen in't, mark you;
I'd wink, and let it go.
Gra. Marry, but I would not.
Ven. Marry, but I would, I hope; I know you would too,
If you'd that blood now, which you gave your daughter.
To her indeed 'tis this wheel[37] comes about;
That man that must be all this, perhaps ere morning,
(For his white father does but mould away),
Has long desir'd your daughter.
Gra. Desir'd?
Ven. Nay, but hear me,
He desires now, that will command hereafter:
Therefore be wise. I speak as more a friend
To you than him: madam, I know you're poor,
And, 'lack the day!
There are too many poor ladies already;
Why should you wax the number? 'tis despis'd.
Live wealthy, rightly understand the world,
And chide away that foolish country girl
Keeps company with your daughter—Chastity.