_Van._ Doe: and I drink to it.
_Gos._ Prethee say so, Love.
_Ger._ 'Twould take away the honour from my blushes:
Do not you play the tyrant, sweet: they speak it.
_Hem._ I thank you niece.
_Gos._ Sir, thank her for your life,
And fetch your sword within.
_Hem._ You insult too much
With your good fortune, Sir. [_Exeunt_ Gos. _and_ Ger.
_Hub._ A brave clear Spirit;
_Hemskirk_, you were to blame: a civil habit
Oft covers a good man: and you may meet
In person of a Merchant, with a soul
As resolute, and free, and all wayes worthy,
As else in any file of man-kind: pray you,
What meant you so to slight him?
_Hem._ 'Tis done now,
Ask no more of it; I must suffer. [_Exit_ Hemskirk.
_Hub._ This
Is still the punishment of rashness, sorrow.
Well; I must to the woods, for nothing here
Will be got out. There, I may chance to learn
Somewhat to help my enquiries further.
_Van._ Ha?
A Looking-glass?
_Hub._ How now, brave _Burgomaster_?
_Van._ I love no _Wolforts_, and my name's _Vandunk_,
_Hub._ _Van drunk_ it's rather: come, go sleep within.
_Van.
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