_Lance._ Sure he can conjure, and has the Devil for his Tailor.

_Unc._ New and rich! 'tis most impossible he should recover.

_Lan._ Give him this luck, and fling him into the Sea.

_Unc._ 'Tis not he, imagination cannot work this miracle.

_Val._ Yes, yes, 'tis he, I will assure you Uncle, the very he, the
he your wisdom plaid withall, I thank you for't, neighed at his
nakednesse, and made his cold and poverty your pastime; you see I live,
and the best can do no more Uncle, and though I have no state, I keep
the streets still, and take my pleasure in the Town, like a poor
Gentleman, wear clothes to keep me warm, poor things they serve me, can
make a shew too if I list, yes uncle, and ring a peal in my pockets,
ding dong, uncle, these are mad foolish wayes, but who can help 'em?

_Unc._ I am amazed.

_Lan._ I'le sell my Copyhold, for since there are such excellent
new nothings, why should I labour? is there no Fairy haunts him, no Rat,
nor no old woman?

_Unc._ You are _Valentine_.

_Val._ I think so, I cannot tell, I have been call'd so, and some
say Christened, why do you wonder at me, and swell, as if you had met a
Sergeant fasting, did you ever know desert want? y'are fools, a little
stoop there may be to allay him, he would grow too rank else, a small
eclipse to shadow him, but out he must break, glowingly again, and with