_Val._ A Gentleman, I do assure my self, And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it; I found him at _Valentia_, poor and needy, Only his mind the master of a Treasure. I sought his friendship, won him by much violence, His honesty and modesty still fearing To thrust a charge upon me; how I love him, He shall now know, where want and he hereafter Shall be no more Companions, use him nobly, It is my will, good Sister, all I have I make him free companion in, and partner, But only-- _Alice._ I observe ye, hold your Right there, Love and high Rule allows no Rivals, Brother, He shall have fair regard, and all observance. _Enter_ Hylas. _Hylas._ You are welcome, noble Sir. _Val._ What, Monsieur _Hylas_! I'm glad to see your merry Body well yet. _Hyl._ 'Faith y'are welcome home, what news beyond seas? _Val._ None, but new men expected, such as you are, To breed new admirations; 'Tis my Sister, 'Pray ye know her, Sir. _Hylas._ With all my heart; your leave Lady? _Alice._ You have it, Sir. _Hylas._ A shrewd smart touch, which does prognosticate A Body keen and active, somewhat old, But that's all one; age brings experience And knowledge to dispatch: I must be better, And nearer in my service, with your leave, Sir, To this fair Lady. _Val._ What, the old 'squire of Dames still! _Hyl._ Still the admirer of their goodness; with all my heart now, I love a woman of her years, a pacer That lays the bridle in her Neck, will travel Forty, and somewhat fulsome is a fine dish. These young Colts are too skittish. _Enter_ Mary. _Alice._ My Cousin _Mary_ In all her joy, Sir, to congratulate Your fair return. _Val._ My loving and kind Cousin, A thousand welcomes. _Mary._ A thousand thanks to heaven, Sir, For your safe voyage, and return. _Val._ I thank ye; But where's my Blessed _Cellide_? her slackness In visitation. _Mary._ Think not so, dear Uncle, I left her on her knees, thanking the gods With tears and prayers. _Val._ Ye have given me too much comfort. _Mary._ She will not be long from ye. _Hyl._ Your fair Cousin? _Val._ It is so, and a bait you cannot balk Sir, If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her: A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady, The poorest of your servants vows his duty And obliged faith. _Mary._ O 'tis a kiss you would, Sir, Take it, and tye your tongue up.