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_Val._ Rags, toys and trifles, fit only for those fools that first possessed 'em, a[n]d to those Knaves they are rendred. Freemen, Uncle, ought to appear like innocents, old _Adam_, a fair Fig-leaf sufficient.

_Unc._ Take me with you, were these your friends, that clear'd you thus?

_Val._ Hang friends, and even reckonings that make friends.

_Unc._ I thought till now, there had been no such living, no such purchase, for all the rest is labour, as a list of honourable friends; do such men as you, Sir, in lieu of all your understandings, travels, and those great gifts of nature, aim at no more than casting off your Coats? I am strangely cozen'd.

_Lance._ Should not the Town shake at the cold you feel now, and all the Gentry suffer interdiction, no more sense spoken, all things _Goth_ and _Vandal_, till you be summed again, Velvets and Scarlets, anointed with gold Lace, and Cloth of silver turned into _Spanish_ Cottens for a penance, wits blasted with your Bulls and Taverns withered, as though the Term lay at _St. Albans_?

_Val._ Gentlemen, you have spoken long and level, I beseech you take breath a while and hear me; you imagine now, by the twirling of your strings, that I am at the last, as also that my friends are flown like Swallows after Summer.

_Unc._ Yes, Sir.

_Val._ And that I have no more in this poor Pannier, to raise me up again above your rents, Uncle.

_Unc._ All this I do believe.

_Val._ You have no mind to better me.

_Unc._ Yes, Cousin, and to that end I come, and once more offer you all that my power is master of.

_Val._ A match then, lay me down fifty pounds there.

_Unc._ There it is, Sir.

_Val._ And on it write, that you are pleased to give this, as due unto my merit, without caution of land redeeming, tedious thanks, or thrift hereafter to be hoped for.

_Unc._ How? [Luce _lays a Suit and Letter at the door._

_Val._ Without daring, when you are drunk, to relish of revilings, to which you are in Sack, Uncle.

_Unc._ I thank you, Sir.

_Lance._ Come, come away, let the young wanton play a while, away I say, Sir, let him go forward with his naked fashion, he will seek you too morrow; goodly weather, sultry hot, sultry, how I sweat!

_Unc._ Farewel, Sir. [_Exeunt_ Uncle _and_ Lance.

_Val._ Would I sweat too, I am monstrous vext, and cold too; and these are but thin pumps to walk the streets in; clothes I must get, this fashion will not fadge with me; besides, 'tis an ill winter wear,--What art thou? yes, they are clothes, and rich ones, some fool has left 'em: and if I should utter--what's this paper here? Let these be only worn by the most n.o.ble and deserving Gentleman _Valentine,_--dropt out o'th' clouds! I think they are full of gold too; well, I'le leave my wonder, and be warm again, in the next house I'le shift. [_Exit._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Francisco, Uncle, _and_ Lance.

_Fran._ Why do you deal thus with him? 'tis unn.o.bly.

_Unc._ Peace Cousin peace, you are too tender of him, he must be dealt thus with, he must be cured thus, the violence of his disease _Francisco,_ must not be jested with, 'tis grown infectious, and now strong Corrosives must cure him.

_Lance._ H'as had a stinger, has eaten off his clothes, the next his skin comes.

_Unc._ And let it search him to the bones, 'tis better, 'twill make him feel it.

_Lance._ Where be his n.o.ble friends now? will his fantastical opinions cloath him, or the learned Art of having nothing feed him?

_Unc._ It must needs greedily, for all his friends have flung him off, he is naked, and where to skin himself again, if I know, or can devise how he should get himself lodging, his Spirit must be bowed, and now we have him, have him at that we hoped for.

_Lance._ Next time we meet him cracking of nuts, with half a cloak about him, for all means are cut off, or borrowing sixpence, to shew his bounty in the pottage Ordinary?

_Fran._ Which way went he?

_Lance._ Pox, why should you ask after him, you have been trimm'd already, let him take his fortune, [he] spun it out himself, Sir, there's no pitie.

_Unc._ Besides some good to you now, from this miserie.

_Fran._ I rise upon his ruines! fie, fie, Uncle, fie honest _Lance._ Those Gentlemen were base people, that could so soon take fire to his destruction.

_Unc._ You are a fool, you are a fool, a young man.

_Enter_ Valentine.

_Val._ Morrow Uncle, morrow _Frank_, sweet _Frank_, and how, and how d'ee, think now, how shew matters? morrow Bandog.

_Unc._ How?

_Fran._ Is this man naked, forsaken of his friends?

_Val._ Th'art handsom, _Frank_, a pretty Gentleman, i'faith thou lookest well, and yet here may be those that look as handsom.

_Lance._ Sure he can conjure, and has the Devil for his Tailor.

_Unc._ New and rich! 'tis most impossible he should recover.

_Lan._ Give him this luck, and fling him into the Sea.

_Unc._ 'Tis not he, imagination cannot work this miracle.

_Val._ Yes, yes, 'tis he, I will assure you Uncle, the very he, the he your wisdom plaid withall, I thank you for't, neighed at his nakednesse, and made his cold and poverty your pastime; you see I live, and the best can do no more Uncle, and though I have no state, I keep the streets still, and take my pleasure in the Town, like a poor Gentleman, wear clothes to keep me warm, poor things they serve me, can make a shew too if I list, yes uncle, and ring a peal in my pockets, ding dong, uncle, these are mad foolish wayes, but who can help 'em?

_Unc._ I am amazed.

_Lan._ I'le sell my Copyhold, for since there are such excellent new nothings, why should I labour? is there no Fairy haunts him, no Rat, nor no old woman?

_Unc._ You are _Valentine_.

_Val._ I think so, I cannot tell, I have been call'd so, and some say Christened, why do you wonder at me, and swell, as if you had met a Sergeant fasting, did you ever know desert want? y'are fools, a little stoop there may be to allay him, he would grow too rank else, a small eclipse to shadow him, but out he must break, glowingly again, and with a great lustre, look you uncle, motion and majesty.