_Val._ You shall stay till I talk with you, and not dine neither, but fastingly my fury, you think you have undone me, think so still, and swallow that belief, till you be company for Court-hand Clarks, and starved Atturnies, till you break in at playes like Prentices for three a groat, and crack Nuts with the Scholars in peny Rooms again, and fight for Apples, till you return to what I found you, people betrai'd into the hands of Fencers, Challengers, Tooth-drawers Bills, and tedious Proclamations in Meal-markets, with throngings to see Cutpurses: stir not, but hear, and mark, I'le cut your throats else, till Water works, and rumours of New Rivers rid you again and run you into questions who built Thames, till you run mad for Lotteries, and stand there with your Tables to glean the golden Sentences, and cite 'em secre[t]ly to Servingmen for sound Essayes, till Taverns allow you but a Towel room to Tipple Wine in, that the Bell hath gone for twice, and Glasses that look like broken promises, tied up with wicker protestations, English Tobacco with half Pipes, nor in half a year once burnt, and Bisket that Bawds have rubb'd their gums upon like Corals to bring the mark again, tell these hour Rascals so, this most fatal hour will come again, think I sit down the looser. _Wid._ Will you stay Gentlemen, a piece of Beef and a cold Capon, that's all, you know you are welcom. _Hum._ That was cast to abuse us. _Bel._ Steal off, the Devil is in his anger. _Wid._ Nay I am sure you will not leave me so discourteously, now I have provided for you. _Val._ What do you here? why do ye vex a woman of her goodness, her state and worth? can you bring a fair certificate that you deserve to be her footmen? husbands, you puppies? husbands for Whores and Bawds, away you wind suckers; do not look big, nor prate, nor stay, nor grumble and when you are gone, seem to laugh at my fury, and slight this Lady, I shall hear, and know this: and though I am not bound to fight for women, as far they are good I dare preserve 'em: be not too bold, for if you be, I'le swinge you monstrously without all pity, your honours now goe, avoid me mainly. [_Exeunt._ _Wid._ Well Sir, you have delivered me, I thank you, and with your nobleness prevented danger, their tongues might utter, we'll all go and eat Sir. _Vol._ No, no, I dare not trust my self with women, go to your meat, eat little, take less ease, and tie your body to a daily labour, you may live honestly, and so I thank you. [_Exit._ _Wid._ Well go thy ways, thou art a noble fellow, and some means I must work to have thee know it. [_Exit._ _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Uncle, _and_ Merchant. _Unc._ Most certain 'tis her hands that hold him up, and her sister relieves _Frank_. _Mer._ I am glad to hear it: but wherefore do they not pursue this fortune to some fair end?