LAMB. Right, sir; but I put the gentlewoman before, and that is the thing I desire; and there your experience halts a little. SPEED. When I look back, sir, I see your nose behind. LAMB. Then when I look back your nose stands here. SPEED. Sweet lady, follow experience. LAMB. And let observation follow you. [_Exeunt._ BREW. So: now request you Master Foster in, George; but hark! does that news hold his own still, that our ships are so near return, as laden on the Downs with such a wealthy fraughtage? GEORGE. Yes, sir, and the next tide [do] purpose to Put into the river. Master Foster, your partner, Hath now receiv'd more such intelligence, with Most o' the particulars of your merchandise; Your venture is return'd with treble blessings. BREW. Let him be ever blessed that sent [it]! George, now call in the young man; and hark ye, George, from him run to my partner, and request him to me. This news, I'm sure, makes him a joyful merchant; for my own part, I'll not forget my vow. [_Exit_ GEORGE. This free addition heaven hath lent my state, As freely back to heaven I'll dedicate. _Enter_ ROBERT FOSTER. Ay, marry, sir, would this were a third suitor to My daughter Jane! I should better like him than All that's come yet. Now, Master Foster, are Your father and yourself yet reconcil'd? ROB. Sir, 'twas my business in your courteous tongue To put the arbitration. I have again (Discover'd by my mother) reliev'd my poor uncle; Whose anger now so great is multiplied, I dare not venture in the eye of either, Till your persuasions [shall] with fair excuse Have made my satisfaction. BREW. Mother-o'-pearl! sir, 'tis a shrewd task; Yet I'll do my best: your father hath so good news, That I hope 'twill be a fair motive to't; But women's tongues are dangerous stumbling-blocks To lie in the way of peace. _Enter_ GEORGE. Now, George? GEORGE. Master Foster's coming, sir. ROB. I beseech you, sir, let not me see him Till you have conferr'd with him. BREW. Well, well! [_To_ GEORGE.] Ere your return to Master Foster, call my daughter forth of the garden. [_Exit_ GEORGE. And how does your uncle, Master Foster? ROB. Sir, so well, I'd be loth to anticipate the fame That shortly will o'erspread the city Of his good fortunes. BREW. Why, I commend thee still; He wants no good from thee--no, not in report: 'Tis well done, sir, and you show duty in't. _Enter_ JANE. Now, daughter, where are your lusty suitors?