ILF.  True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too,
And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure
As thou to me the merchant-venturer.

SIS.  What riches I am ballast with are yours.

ILF.  That’s kindly said now.

SIS.  If but with sand, as I am but with earth,
Being your right, of right you must receive me: 
I have no other lading but my love,
Which in abundance I will render you. 
If other freight you do expect my store,
I’ll pay you tears:  my riches are no more.

ILF.  How’s this? how’s this?  I hope you do but jest.

SIS.  I am sister to decayed Scarborow.

ILF.  Ha!

SIS.  Whose substance your enticements did consume.

ILF.  Worse than an ague.

SIS.  Which as you did believe, so they supposed. 
’Twas fitter for yourself than for another
To keep the sister, had undone the brother.

ILF.  I am gulled, by this hand.  An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a plague on them, and I know not what!  Do you hear, puppet, do you think you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with you?  I have made a fair match, i’faith:  will any man buy my commodity out of my hand?  As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she cost me.

    Enter WENTLOE and BARTLEY.

WEN.  O, have we met you, sir?

BAR.  What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends acquainted with it?

ILF.  A pox on her, I would you had her!

WEN.  Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now ’tis done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand.

BAR.  As that you have two thousand pounds a year.

WEN.  Two or three manor-houses.

BAR.  A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous.

ILF.  Pretty, i’faith, very pretty.

WEN.  Store of gold.

BAR.  Plate in abundance.

ILF.  Better, better, better.

WEN.  And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the cuckolds in your country.

ILF.  Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad:  I could be made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this.

WEN.  Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your ancient acquaintance.  Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of the match for you.

ILF.  A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me no more.  That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has brought, bear witness how I’ll reward her. [Kicks her.

SIS.  Sir!

ILF.  Whore, ay, and jade.  Witch!  Ill-faced, stinking-breath, crooked-nose, worse than the devil—­and a plague on thee that ever I saw thee!