Jam.

Very well, mock on,
It is your turn:  I may have mine—­

[Exit.

Oct.

But do not
Forget us, dear Ascanio.

Asc.

Do not fear it,
I every day will see you:  every hour
Remember you in my prayers.

Oct.

My grief’s too great
To be expressed in words—­

[Exit.

Hen.

Take that and leave us,

[gives mony to Jacinta.

Leave us without reply, nay come back sirrah
And study to forget such things as these
As are not worth the knowledge.

     [Asca. offers to follow.

     Asc.

     O good Sir,
     These are bad principles—­

     Hen.

     Such as you must learn
     Now you are mine, for wealth and poverty
     Can hold no friendship:  and what is my will
     You must observe and do, though good or ill.

[Exeunt.

     SCENA IV.

     Enter Bartolus.

     Bar.

     Where is my wife? ’fore heaven, I have done wonders,
     Done mighty things to day, my Amaranta,
     My heart rejoyces at my wealthy Gleanings,
     A rich litigious Lord I love to follow,
     A Lord that builds his happiness on brawlings,
     O ’tis a blessed thing to have rich Clyents,
     Why, wife I say, how fares my studious Pupil? 
     Hard at it still? ye are too violent,
     All things must have their rests, they will not last else,
     Come out and breathe. [Leandro within.

     Lean.

     I do beseech you pardon me,
     I am deeply in a sweet point Sir.

     Bar.

     I’le instruct ye: 

     Enter Amaranta.

     I say take breath, seek health first, then your study. 
     O my sweet soul, I have brought thee golden birds home,
     Birds in abundance:  I have done strange wonders: 
     There’s more a hatching too.

     Am.

     Have ye done, good husband? 
     Then ’tis a good day spent.

     Bar.

     Good enough chicken,
     I have spread the nets o’th’ law, to catch rich booties,
     And they come fluttering in:  how do’s my Pupil? 
     My modest thing, hast thou yet spoken to him?

     Am.

     As I past by his chamber I might see him,
     But he is so bookish.

     Bar.

     And so bashfull too,
     I’ faith he is, before he will speak, he will starve there.

     Am.

     I pitie him a little.

     Bar.

     So do I too.

     Am.

     And if he please to take the air o’th’ gardens,
     Or walk i’th’ inward rooms, so he molest not—­