Actus Primus. Scena Prima. Enter Dinant, a[n]d Cleremont. Din. Disswade me not.Clere. It will breed a brawl.Din. I care not, I wear a Sword.Cler. And wear discretion with it,Or cast it off, let that direct your arm,'Tis madness else, not valour, and more baseThan to receive a wrong.Din. Why would you have meSit down with a disgrace, and thank the doer?We are not Stoicks, and that passive courageIs only now commendable in Lackies,Peasants, and... more...

Actus primus. Scena prima. Enter Uncle and Merchant. Merc. When saw you Valentine? Uncle. Not since the Horse-race, he's taken up with those that woo the Widow. Mer. How can he live by snatches from such people? he bore a worthy mind. Uncle. Alas, he's sunk, his means are gone, he wants, and which is worse,Takes a delight in doing so. Mer. That's strange. Unc. Runs Lunatick, if you but talk of states, he cannot be brought (now he has... more...