_Lance._ Hey, hey boys, old _Valentine_ i'faith, the old boy still.

_Unc._ Fie Cousin.

_Val._ I mean besotted to his state, he had never left me the
misery of so much means else, which till I sold, was a meer meagrim to
me: If you will talk, turn out these Tenants, they are as killing to my
nature Uncle, as water to a Feaver.

_Lance._ We will go, but it is like Rams, to come again the
stronger, and you shall keep your state.

_Val._ Thou lyest, I will not.

_Lance._ Sweet Sir, thou lyest, thou shalt, and so good morrow.
[_Exeunt_ Tenants.

_Val._ This was my man, and of a noble breeding: now to your
business Uncle.

_Unc._ To your state then.

_Val._ 'Tis gone, and I am glad on't, name it no more, 'tis that
I pray against, and Heaven has heard me, I tell you, Sir, I am more
fearful of it, I mean, of thinking of more lands, or livings, than
sickly men are travelling o' Sundays, for being quell'd with Carriers;
out upon't, _caveat emptor_, let the fool out-sweat it, that thinks
he has got a catch on't.