O. FOS. Sir, if your daughter cast any eye of favour upon this unthrift, restrain't, he's a beggar. Mistress Jane, take heed what you do. MRS FOS. Ay, ay, be wise, Mistress Jane; do not you trust to spleen in time worn to pity,[87] you'll not find it so; therefore, good gentlewoman, take heed. BREW. Nay, then, you are too impenetrable. O. FOS. Sir, your money shall be ready, and your bills; other business I have none. [_To_ ROB.] For thee, beg, hang, die like a slave; Such blessings ever thou from me shalt have. [_Exit_ FOSTER _and his_ WIFE. BREW. Well, sir, I'll follow you. [_To_ ROBERT. And, sir, be comforted, I will not leave, till I find some remorse; Meantime let not want trouble you; You shall not know it. ROB. Sir, 'tis not want I fear, but want of blessing My knee was bent for; for mine uncle's state, Which now (I daresay) outweighs my father's far, Confirms my hopes as rich as with my father's, His love excepted only. BREW. Thy uncle's state! how, for heaven's love? ROB. By his late marriage to the wealthiest widow That London had; who has not only made him Lord of herself, but of her whole estate. BREW. Mother-o'-pearl! I rejoice in't: this news Is yet but young. ROB. Fame will soon speak it loud, sir. BREW. This may help happily to make all peace: But how, have you parley'd with my daughter, sir? _Enter_ JANE. JANE. Very well, father; we spake something, but did nothing at all: I requested him to pull me a Catherine pear, and had I not looked to him, he would have mistook and given me a poperin: and to requite his kindness I plucked him a rose, and had almost pricked my finger for my pains. BREW. Well-said, wag; are there sparks kindled? Quench 'em not for me: 'tis not a father's roughness, Nor doubtful hazard of an uncle's kindness Can me deter. I must to your father; Where (as a chief affair) I'll once more move, And (if I can) return him back to love. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ STEPHEN'S WIFE. WIFE. Sir, you see I have made a speedy choice And as swift a marriage: be it as it will, I like the man: if his qualities afflict me, I shall be happy in't. DOC. I must not distaste what I have help'd to make; 'Tis I that join'd you. WIFE. A good bargain, I hope. _Enter_ CLOWN. Roger, where's your master? CLOWN. The good man of the house is within, forsooth. WIFE. Not your master, sir?