_Wid._ I know it as I know your folly, one that knows not where he
shall eat his next meal, take his rest, unless it be i'th' stocks; what
kindred has he, but a more wanting Brother, or what vertues.

_Isab._ You have had rare intelligence, I see, sister.

_Wid._ Or say the man had vertue, is vertue in this age a full
inheritance? what Joynture can he make you, _Plutarchs Morals_, or
so much penny rent in the small Poets? this is not well, 'tis weak, and
I grieve to know it.

_Isab._ And this you quit the town for?

_Wid._ Is't not time?

_Isab._ You are better read in my affairs than I am, that's all I
have to answer, I'le go with you, and willingly, and what you think most
dangerous, I'le sit laugh at. For sister 'tis not folly but good
discretion governs our main fortunes.

_Wid._ I am glad to hear you say so.

_Isa._ I am for you.

_Enter_ Shorthose, _and_ Humphrey, _with riding rods._

_Hum._ The Devil cannot stay her, she'l on't, eat an egg now, and
then we must away.