Val. What’s my knowledge Uncle, is’t not worth mony? what’s my understanding, travel, reading, wit, all these digested, my daily making men, some to speak, that too much flegm had frozen up, some that spoke too much, to hold their peace, and put their tongues to pensions, some to wear their cloaths, and some to keep ’em, these are nothing Uncle; besides these wayes, to teach the way of nature, a manly love, community to all that are deservers, not examining how much, or what’s done for them, ’tis wicked, and such a one like you, chews his thoughts [double], making ’em only food for his repentance.

Enter two Servants.

1 Ser. This cloak and hat Sir, and my Masters love.

Val. Commend’s to thy Master, and take that, and leave ’em at my lodging.

1 Ser. I shall do it Sir.

Val. I do not think of these things.

2 Ser. Please you Sir, I have gold here for you.

Val. Give it me, drink that and commend me to thy Master; look you Uncle, do I beg these?

Unc. No sure, ’tis your worth, Sir.

Val. ’Tis like enough, but pray satisfie me, are not these ways as honest as persecuting the starved inheritance, with musty Corn, the very rats were fain to run away from, or felling rotten wood by the pound, like spices, which Gentlemen do after burn by th’ ounces? do not I know your way of feeding beasts with grains, and windy stuff, to blow up Butchers? your racking Pastures, that have eaten up as many singing Shepherds, and their issues, as Andeluzia breeds? these are authentique, I tell you Sir, I would not change ways with you, unless it were to sell your state that hour, and if it were possible to spend it then too, for all your Beans in Rumnillo, now you know me.

Unc. I would you knew your self, but since you are grown such a strange enemy to all that fits you, give me leave to make your Brothers fortune.

Val. How?

Unc. From your mortgage, which yet you may recover, I’le find the means.

Val. Pray save your labour Sir, my Brother and my self will run one fortune, and I think what I hold a meer vexation, cannot be safe for him, I love him better, he has wit at will, the world has means, he shall live without this trick of state, we are heirs both, and all the world before us.

Unc. My last offer, and then I am gone.

Val. What is’t, and then I’le answer.

Unc. What think you of a wife yet to restore you, and tell me seriously without these trifles.

Val. And you can find one, that can please my fancy, you shall not find me stubborn.

Unc. Speak your Woman.

Val. One without eyes, that is, self commendations, for when they find they are handsom, they are unwholsome; one without ears, not giving time to flatterers, for she that hears her self commended, wavers, and points men out a way to make ’em wicked; one without substance of her self; that woman without the pleasure of her life, that’s wanton; though she be young, forgetting it, though fair, making her glass the eyes of honest men, not her own admiration, all her ends obedience, all her hours new blessings, if there may be such a woman.