_Gan_. I did, & could as quyetlye endure
To be exposd uppon the publique scaffold
To all myne enemyes contempt, but nowe
I'me more then banysht, all my honors lost,
My wealthe, my places everye one the kyngs;
I hardlye am a pryvate gentyllman.
And more then thys, my onlye dearest frend,
My _Richard_, I must never see agayne.

_Gab_.--Excellent newse! hould, there Ile honor thee.

_Eud_. Why, all thys is a tryfell; suche a blast
As should not move a weake reede. Come, I love
Your selfe and not your fortunes: pray forgett em.
See, I have brought my daughter, and desyer
The matche betwixt us may be consumate.

_Gan_. O you are noble that can pyttie scorne!
And werte not for my frends losse all the rest
I should loosse like my shadowe.

_Eld_. I, and hym,
When I have toulde you myne intelligence.
Come, hees not halfe so good as you imagine.

_Gan_. Goe, y'are a woman, and that styll implyes
Can be malytious.--But are you then resolvd
To match with myne ill fortunes?

_Eud_. Sir, I am.