WIDOW.
Oh, such a dear knight! such a sweet husband have I lost,
have I lost!--If Blessed be the coarse the rain rains upon,
he had it pouring down.

SIR GODFREY.
Sister, be of good cheer, we are all mortal our selves. I
come upon you freshly. I near speak without comfort, hear
me what I shall say:--my brother ha's left you wealthy,
y'are rich.

WIDOW.
Oh!

SIR GODFREY.
I say y'are rich: you are also fair.

WIDOW.
Oh!

SIR GODFREY.
Go to, y'are fair, you cannot smother it; beauty will come
to light; nor are your years so far enter'd with you, but
that you will be sought after, and may very well answer
another husband; the world is full of fine Gallants, choice
enow, Sister,--for what should we do with all our Knights,
I pray, but to marry rich widows, wealthy Citizens' widows,
lusty fair-browed Ladies? go to, be of good comfort, I say:
leave snobbing and weeping--Yet my Brother was a kind hearted
man--I would not have the Elf see me now!--Come, pluck up a