Eug. A poor scholar, my lord; one that am little beholding to fortune.
Vir. So are most of your profession. Thou shouldst take some more thriving occupation. Be a judge's man; they are the bravest nowadays, or a cardinal's pander—that were a good profession, and gainful.
Eug. But not lawful, my lord.
Vir. Lawful! that cardinal may come to be pope, and then he could pardon thee and himself too.
Eug. My lord, I was brought up a scholar, and I thank you for your counsel, my lord: I have some for you, and therefore I came.
Vir. For me! what, I prythee?
Eug. 'Tis weighty, and concerns you near.
Vir. Speak, what is't?
Eug. My lord, you are to marry old Polymetes's daughter.