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?
_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_.
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