3 Tenants. Your Fathers Worship would have used us better.

Val. My Fathers Worship was a Fool.

Lance. Hey, hey boys, old Valentine i’faith, the old boy still.

Unc. Fie Cousin.

Val. I mean besotted to his state, he had never left me the misery of so much means else, which till I sold, was a meer meagrim to me:  If you will talk, turn out these Tenants, they are as killing to my nature Uncle, as water to a Feaver.

Lance. We will go, but it is like Rams, to come again the stronger, and you shall keep your state.

Val. Thou lyest, I will not.

Lance. Sweet Sir, thou lyest, thou shalt, and so good morrow. [Exeunt Tenants.

Val. This was my man, and of a noble breeding:  now to your business Uncle.

Unc. To your state then.

Val. ’Tis gone, and I am glad on’t, name it no more, ’tis that I pray against, and Heaven has heard me, I tell you, Sir, I am more fearful of it, I mean, of thinking of more lands, or livings, than sickly men are travelling o’ Sundays, for being quell’d with Carriers; out upon’t, caveat emptor, let the fool out-sweat it, that thinks he has got a catch on’t.

Unc. This is madness to be a wilful begger.

Val. I am mad then, and so I mean to be, will that content you?  How bravely now I live, how jocund, how near the first inheritance, without fears, how free from title-troubles!

Unc. And from means too.

Val. Means? why all good men’s my means; my wit’s my Plow, the Town’s my stock, Tavern’s my standing-house, and all the world knows there’s no want; all Gentlemen that love Society, love me; all Purses that wit and pleasure opens, are my Tenants; every mans Cloaths fit me, the next fair lodging is but my next remove, and when I please to be more eminent, and take the Air, a piece is levied, and a Coach prepared, and I go I care not whither, what need state here?

Unc. But say these means were honest, will they last, Sir?

Val. Far longer than your jerkin, and wear fairer, should I take ought of you, ’tis true, I beg’d now, or which is worse than that, I stole a kindness, and which is worst of all, I lost my way in’t; your mind’s enclosed, nothing lies open nobly, your very thoughts are Hinds that work on nothing but daily sweat and trouble:  were my way so full of dirt as this, ’tis true I’d shift it; are my acquaintance Grasiers? but Sir, know, no man that I am allied to, in my living, but makes it equal, whether his own use, or my necessity pull first, nor is this forc’d, but the meer quality and poisure of goodness, and do you think I venture nothing equal?

Unc. You pose me Cousin.