Sir J. Wor. Kate, do you love him?
Kate. Yes, faith, father, with all my heart.
Sir J. Wor. Take hands: kiss him. Her portion is four thousand.
Good morrow, my son Count: you stay long for your bride;
But this is the day that sells her, and she
Must come forth like my daughter and your wife.
I pray, salute this gentleman as your brother;
This morn shall make him so, and though, his habit
But speak him citizen, I know his worth
To be gentle in all parts. Captain!
Capt. Pouts. Sir.
Sir J. Wor. Captain, I could have been contented well,
You should have married Kate.
Kate. So could not Kate.
[Aside.]
Sir J. Wor. You have an honourable title.
A soldier is a very honourable title:
A captain is a commander of soldiers;
But look you, captain; captains have no money;
Therefore the Worldlys must not match with captains.
Capt. Pouts. So, sir, so.
Sir J. Wor. There are brave wars.
Capt. Pouts. Where?