_Will._ Bless you, he hath reasons! he would refuse
tenpence to a starving wretch, because he owed ten
pounds to his shoemaker, though he had ten thousand
in his coffers at home. Yet would he still owe the
ten pounds.

_Arth._ Nay, cease! I love not to hear it.

_Will._ And yet so meanly would he adopt appearances
in the world's eye, that should he have to cross
a muddy street where a beggar kept a passage clear
with his besom, lest the gallants should soil their
bravery, he would time his crossing, till one driven,
or on horseback, should be near, that he might pass
hurriedly on without giving him a groat, as in fear
of being o'erridden. Like Judas--

_Arth._ Cease! cease! I bid thee cease!

_Will._ Thy cousin is very beautiful and gentle.

_Arth._ I will but see her, then my sword must carve
my fortunes. Did she speak kindly of me? Alas! I
need some welcoming. Go seek her. It is time.

[_Exit WILLIAM, R._]

O sweet hour!
In yonder heaven deep the stars are lit