Gos.  What is that you say, Sir?  If it be me you speak of, as your eye Seems to direct, I wish you would speak to me, Sir.

Hem.  Sir, I do say, she is no Merchandize, Will that suffice you?

Gos.  Merchandize good Sir?  Though ye be Kinsman to her, take no leave thence To use me with contempt:  I ever thought Your Niece above all price.

Hem.  And do so still, Sir, I assure you, her rates are more than you are worth.

Gos.  You do not know, what a Gentleman’s worth, Sir, Nor can you value him.

H[u]b.  Well said Merchant.

Van.  Nay, Let him alone, and ply your matter.

Hem.  A Gentleman?  What o’the Wool-pack? or the Sugar-chest?  Or lists of Velvet? which is’t pound, or yard, You vent your Gentry by?

Hub.  O Hemskirk, fye.

Van.  Come, do not mind ’em, drink, he is no Wolfort, Captain, I advise you.

Hem.  Alas, my pretty man,
I think’t be angry, by its look:  Come hither,
Turn this way, a little:  if it were the blood
Of Charlemaine, as’t may (for ought I know)
Be some good Botchers issue, here in Bruges.

Gos.  How?

Hem.  Nay:  I’me not certain of that; of this I am, If it once buy, and sell, its Gentry is gone.

Gos.  Ha, ha.

Hem. You are angry, though ye laugh.

Gos. No, now ’tis pity
Of your poor argument.  Do not you, the Lords
Of Land (if you be any) sell the grass,
The Corn, the Straw, the Milk, the Cheese?

Van. And Butter:  Remember Butter; do not leave out Butter.

Gos. The Beefs and Muttons that your grounds are stor’d with?  Swine, with the very mast, beside the Woods?

Hem. No, for those sordid uses we have Tenants, Or else our Bailiffs.

Gos. Have not we, Sir, Chap-men,
And Factors, then to answer these? your honour
Fetch’d from the Heralds ABC, and said over
With your Court faces, once an hour, shall never
Make me mistake my self.  Do not your Lawyers
Sell all their practice, as your Priests their prayers? 
What is not bought, and sold?  The company
That you had last, what had you for’t, i’faith?

Hem. You now grow sawcy.

Gos. Sure I have been bred Still, with my honest liberty, and must use it.

Hem. Upon your equals then.

Gos. Sir, he that will Provoke me first, doth make himself my equal.

Hem. Do ye hear? no more.