THOM.  Tut, that’s not that we doubt on, wench; but do you hear, Sir John? what do you think drew me from London and the Inns of Court thus far into Yorkshire?

HAR.  I guess, to see this girl shall be your sister.

THOM.  Faith, and I guess partly so too, but the main was—­and I will not lie to you—­that, your coming now in this wise into our kindred, I might be acquainted with you aforehand, that after my brother had married your daughter, I his brother might borrow some money of you.

HAR.  What, do you borrow of your kindred, sir?

THOM.  ’Sfoot, what else? they, having interest in my blood, why should I not have interest in their coin?  Besides, sir, I, being a younger brother, would be ashamed of my generation if I would not borrow of any man that would lend, especially of my affinity, of whom I keep a calendar.  And look you, sir, thus I go over them.  First o’er my uncles:  after, o’er mine aunts:  then up to my nephews:  straight down to my nieces:  to this cousin Thomas and that cousin Jeffrey, leaving the courteous claw given to none of their elbows, even unto the third and fourth remove of any that hath interest in our blood.  All which do, upon their summons made by me, duly and faithfully provide for appearance.  And so, as they are, I hope we shall be, more entirely endeared, better and more feelingly acquainted.[368]

HAR.  You are a merry gentleman.

THOM.  ’Tis the hope of money makes me so; and I know none but fools use to be sad with it.

JOHN.  From Oxford am I drawn from serious studies,
Expecting that my brother still hath sojourn’d
With you, his best of choice, and this good knight.

HAR.  His absence shall not make our hearts less merry,
Than if we had his presence.  A day ere long
Will bring him back, when one the other meets,
At noon i’th’ church, at night between the sheets. 
We’ll wash this chat with wine.  Some wine! fill up;
The sharp’ner of the wit is a full cup. 
And so to you, sir.

THOM.  Do, and I’ll drink to my new sister; but upon this condition, that she may have quiet days, little rest o’ nights, have pleasant afternoons, be pliant to my brother, and lend me money, whensoe’er I’ll borrow it.

HAR.  Nay, nay, nay. 
Women are weak, and we must bear with them: 
Your frolic healths are only fit for men.

THOM.  Well, I am contented; women must to the wall, though it be to a feather-bed.  Fill up, then. [They drink.

    Enter CLOWN.

CLOWN.  From London am I come,
Though not with pipe and drum,
Yet I bring matter
In this poor paper
Will make my young mistress,
Delighting in kisses,
Do as all maidens will,
Hearing of such an ill,
As to have lost
The thing they wish’d most,
A husband, a husband,
A pretty sweet husband,
Cry O, O, O,
And alas, and at last
Ho, ho, ho,
As I do.