O. FOS. How now, woman? Wrecked in the haven of felicity? What ail'st thou? MRS FOS. I think the devil's mine enemy. O. FOS. I hope so too; his hate is better than his friendship. MRS FOS. Your brother--your good brother, sir---- O. FOS. What of him? he's in Ludgate again. MRS FOS. No, he's in _Highgate_; he struts it bravely-- An alderman's pace at least. O. FOS. Why, these Are oracles, doubtful enigmas! MRS FOS. Why, I'm sure you have heard the news; he's married, forsooth. O. FOS. How, married? No woman of repute would choose so slightly. MRS FOS. A woman, in whose breast I'd thought had liv'd The very quintessence of discretion: And who is't, think you? nay, you cannot guess, Though I should give you a day to [un]riddle it: It is my gossip, man, the rich Widow of Cornhill. O. FOS. Fie, fie! 'tis fabulous. MRS FOS. Are you my husband? then is she his wife. How will this upstart beggar shoulder up, And take the wall of you! his new-found pride Will know no eldership. O. FOS. But, wife, my wealth will five times double his Ere this tide ebb again: I wonder I hear not The brazen cannon proclaim the arrival Of my infinite substance. MRS FOS. But beggars Will be proud of little, and shoulder at the best. O. FOS. Let him first pay his old score, and then reckon: But that she---- MRS FOS. Ay, that's it mads me too. Would any woman, 'less to spite herself, So much profane the sacred name of wedlock: A dove to couple with a stork, or a lamb a viper? O. FOS. Content thee; forgive her; she'll do so no more. She was a rich widow: a wife he'll make her poor. BREW. So, sir, you have clos'd it well; if so ill it prove, Leave it to proof, and wish not misery _Enter_ STEPHEN _and_ ROBERT. Unto your enemy. Look, here he comes. O. FOS. You say true; 'tis my enemy indeed. STEPH. Save you, master alderman, I have some business with you. BREW. With me, sir? and most welcome; I rejoice to see you. MRS FOS. Do you observe, sir, he will not know you now? Jockey's a gentleman now.[90] O. FOS. Well fare rich widows, when such beggars flourish; But ill shall they fare that flourish o'er such beggars. STEPH. Ha! ha! ha! MRS FOS. He laughs at you. O. FOS. No wonder, woman, he would do that in Ludgate; But 'twas when his kind nephew did relieve him: I shall hear him cry there again shortly. STEPH. _Oysters, new Walfleet oysters!_ O. FOS. The gentleman is merry. MRS FOS. No, no, no; he does this to spite me; as who should say, I had been a fishwife in my younger days. BREW. Fie, fie, gentlemen! this is not well; My ears are guilty to hear such discords. [ROBERT _kneels to his father_.