_Will._ You have bad stuff to deal with. He will not become good suddenly, as in some stage-plays. You shall not frown him into a virtuous act. Nevertheless, abuse him, an 'twill do thee good. Look you, dear master, I will describe him. He hath a neat and cheerful aspect, and talketh very smoothly; nay, for a time he shall agree with everybody, that you shall think him the most good-natured fellow alive; he shall be as benevolent as a lawyer nursing his leg, whilst he listens to the tale of him whom his client oppresseth, and you shall win him just as easily. Let the question of gain put him in action, and the devil inside shall jump out, like an ape stirred up to malice. He affects, too, a vulgar frankness, which is often the mask of selfishness, as a man who helps himself first at table with a "ha! ha!" in a facetious manner, a jocose greediness, which is most actual, real earnest within. _Arth._ Alas! If this be true, what chance have I? for such a one as thou describest would call charity herself a cheat, and deem the emotion of an angel morbid generosity. _Will._ Bless you, he hath reasons! he would refuse tenpence to a starving wretch, because he owed ten pounds to his shoemaker, though he had ten thousand in his coffers at home. Yet would he still owe the ten pounds. _Arth._ Nay, cease! I love not to hear it. _Will._ And yet so meanly would he adopt appearances in the world's eye, that should he have to cross a muddy street where a beggar kept a passage clear with his besom, lest the gallants should soil their bravery, he would time his crossing, till one driven, or on horseback, should be near, that he might pass hurriedly on without giving him a groat, as in fear of being o'erridden. Like Judas-- _Arth._ Cease! cease! I bid thee cease! _Will._ Thy cousin is very beautiful and gentle. _Arth._ I will but see her, then my sword must carve my fortunes. Did she speak kindly of me? Alas! I need some welcoming. Go seek her. It is time. [_Exit WILLIAM, R._]