_Val._ There's your Hangers, you may deserve a strong pair, and a girdle will hold you without buckles; now I am perfect, and now the proudest of your worships tell me I am beholding to you. _Fount._ No such matter. _Val._ And take heed how you pity me, 'tis dangerous, exceeding dangerous, to prate of pity; which are the poorer? you are now puppies; I without you, or you without my knowledge? be Rogues, and so be gone, be Rogues and reply not, for if you do-- _Bell._ Only thus much, and then we'll leave you: the Air is far sharper than our anger, Sir, and these you may reserve to rail in warmer. _Hare._ Pray have a care, Sir, of your health. [_Ex. Lovers._ _Val._ Yes Hog-hounds, more than you can have of your wits; 'tis cold, and I am very sensible, extreamly cold too, yet I will not off, till I have shamed these Rascals; I have indured as ill heats as another, and every way if one could perish my body, you'll bear the blame on't; I am colder here, not a poor penny left. _Enter_ Uncle _with a Bag_. _Unc._ 'Thas taken rarely, and now he's flead he will be ruled. _Lan._ To him, tew him, abuse him, and nip him close. _Unc._. Why how now, Cousin, sunning your self this weather? _Val._ As you see, Sir, in a hot fit, I thank my friends. _Unc._ But Cousin, where are your Cloaths man? those are no inheritance, your scruple may compound with those I take it, this is no fashion, Cousin. _Val._ Not much followed, I must confess; yet Uncle I determine to try what may be done next Term. _Lance._ How came you thus, Sir, for you are strangely moved. _Val._ Rags, toys and trifles, fit only for those fools that first possessed 'em, a[n]d to those Knaves they are rendred. Freemen, Uncle, ought to appear like innocents, old _Adam_, a fair Fig-leaf sufficient. _Unc._ Take me with you, were these your friends, that clear'd you thus? _Val._ Hang friends, and even reckonings that make friends. _Unc._ I thought till now, there had been no such living, no such purchase, for all the rest is labour, as a list of honourable friends; do such men as you, Sir, in lieu of all your understandings, travels, and those great gifts of nature, aim at no more than casting off your Coats? I am strangely cozen'd. _Lance._ Should not the Town shake at the cold you feel now, and all the Gentry suffer interdiction, no more sense spoken, all things _Goth_ and _Vandal_, till you be summed again, Velvets and Scarlets, anointed with gold Lace, and Cloth of silver turned into _Spanish_ Cottens for a penance, wits blasted with your Bulls and Taverns withered, as though the Term lay at _St. Albans_? _Val._ Gentlemen, you have spoken long and level, I beseech you take breath a while and hear me; you imagine now, by the twirling of your strings, that I am at the last, as also that my friends are flown like Swallows after Summer. _Unc._ Yes, Sir. _Val._ And that I have no more in this poor Pannier, to raise me up again above your rents, Uncle. _Unc._ All this I do believe.