_Luce._ 'Tis charitable.

_Lance._ Come Sir, I'le see you lodg'd, you have tied my tongue
fast, I'le steal before you want, 'tis but a hanging.

_Isab._ That's a good fellow too, an honest fellow, why, this would
move a stone, I must needs know; but that some other time.
[_Exit_ Lance, _and_ Franc.

_Luce._ Is the wind there? that makes for me.

_Isab._ Come, I forgot a business.




_Actus [Secundus]. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Widow, _and_ Luce.


_Wid._ My sister, and a woman of so base a pity! what was the
fellow?

_Luce,_ Why, an ordinary man, Madam.

_Wid._ Poor?

_Luce._ Poor enough, and no man knows from whence neither.