Hem. Nay Sir mine heer Van-dunck Is a true Statesman.

Van. Fill my Captains cup there, O that your Master Wolfort Had been an honest man.

Hub. Sir?

Van. Under the Rose.

Hem. Here’s to you Marget.

Marg. Welcome, welcome Captain.

Van. Well said my pearl still.

Hem. And how does my Niece? 
Almost a Woman, I think?  This friend of mine,
I drew along w[i]th me, through so much hazard,
Only to see her:  she was my errand.

Van. I, a kind Uncle you are (fill him his glass) That in seven years, could not find leisure—­

Hem. No, It’s not so much.

Van.  I’le bate you ne’r an hour on’t,
It was before the Brabander ’gan his War,
For moon-shine, i’the water there, his Daughter
That never was lost:  yet you could not find time
To see a Kinswoman; but she is worth the seeing, Sir,
Now you are come, you ask if she were a Woman? 
She is a Woman, Sir, fetch her forth Marget. [Exit Marg. 
And a fine Woman, and has Suitors.

Hem.  How?  What Suitors are they?

Van.  Bachellors; young Burgers:  And one, a Gallant, the young Prince of Merchants We call him here in Bruges.

Hem.  How? a Merchant?  I thought, Vandunke, you had understood me better, And my Niece too, so trusted to you by me, Than t’admit of such in name of Suitors.

Van.  Such? he is such a such, as were she mine I’d give him thirty thousand crowns with her.

Hem.  But the same things, Sir, fit not you and me. [Ex.

Van.  Why, give’s some wine, then; this will fit us all: 
Here’s to you still, my Captains friend:  All out: 
And still, would Wolfort were an honest man,
Under the Rose, I speak it:  but this Merchant
Is a brave boy:  he lives so, i’the Town here,
We know not what to think on him:  at some times
We fear he will be Bankrupt; he do’s stretch
Tenter his credit so; embraces all,
And to’t, the winds have been contrary long. 
But then, if he should have all his returns,
We think he would be a King, and are half sure on’t. 
Your Master is a Traitor, for all this,
Under the Rose:  Here’s to you; and usurps
The Earldom from a better man.

Hub.  I marry, Sir, Where is that man?

Van.  Nay soft:  and I could tell you
’Tis ten to one I would not:  here’s my hand,
I love not Wolfort:  sit you still, with that: 
Here comes my Captain again, and his fine Niece,
And there’s my Merchant; view him well:  fill wine here.

Enter Hemskirk, Gertrude, and Goswin.

Hem.  You must not only know me for your Uncle
Now, but obey me:  you, go cast your self
Away, upon a Dunghil here? a Merchant? 
A petty fellow? one that makes his Trade
With Oaths and perjuries?