Yfaith, sir, according to the old Proverb:
The child was born and cried, became man,
After fell sick, and died.

UNCLE.
Nay, cousin, do not take it so heavily.

FLOWERDALE.
Nay, I cannot weep you extempore: marry, some
two or three days hence, I shall weep without any
stintance. But I hope he died in good memory.

FATHER.
Very well, sir, and set down every thing in good
order; and the Katherine and Hue you talked of, I
came over in: and I saw all the bills of lading, and
the velvet that you talked of, there is no such aboard.

FLOWERDALE.
By God, I assure you, then, there is knavery abroad.

FATHER.
I'll be sworn of that: there's knavery abroad,
Although there were never a piece of velvet in Venice.

FLOWERDALE.
I hope he died in good estate.

FATHER.
To the report of the world he did, and made his will,