Sis.  His reason?

Cou.  Was in these wordes; suppose you hear him speak it;
Now do you sit—­Lady, when I consider you,
The perfect frame of what we can call hansome,
With all your attributes of soule and body,
Where no addition or detraction can
By Cupids nicer Crittick find a fault,
Or Mercury with your eternall flame;
And then consider what a thing I am
To this high Character of you, so low,
So lost to noble merits, I despaire
To love a Mistresse cannot love agen.

Sis.  This is a much dissembled Modesty.

Cou.  Therefore give me the kinder Chambermaid,
That will returne me love for my two peeces
And give me back twelve pennyworth agen,
Which is as much as I can well receave;
So there is thirty and nyne shillings cleere
Gotten in Love, and much good do her too’t;
I thinke it very well bestow’d.

Sis.  But if I thinke you worthy, and accept Your service, it destroies this other reason For your despaire.  Why, I can praise you, too.

Cou.  No, lett it alone I have other reasons Lady
Among my papers.  But to love or to be in love
Is to be guld; that’s the plaine English of Cupids Latine. 
Beside, all reverence to the calling, I
Have vowd never to marry, and you know
Love may bring a Man toot at last, and therefore
My fine Gewgaw do not abuse me.

Sis.  How can I When you will neither Love nor marry me?

Cou.  I was not made for a husband.

Sis.  But I would make you.

Cou.  I know what you would make me.

    Enter Servant.

Ser.  Mounsier Device, if you be alone, would present his service.

Cou.  Is he come?

Sis.  Sir, do me but one favour, ile recant
My Love, I wonot have so much as one
Good thought on you; I will neglect you, sir,
Nay and abuse you, too, if you obscure
But for three minutes.

Cou.  Ile have patience so long.

Sis.  Admitt him.—­I wilbe reveng’d o’ somebody.—­ Now, Sir.

    Enter Device.

De.  I ha brought you a weapon, Lady.

La.  Mee, what to do, Sir?

De.  Tis Justice I present it to your feete Whose love arm[e]d me to vindicate your honour.

Sis.  My honour?

De.  This is but the first of my valour in your cause;
If you affect these Monuments ile make
You up an Armorie; meane tyme receave
My Service with this sword:  if he provoke me
To fight with him agen, Ile cut his hand of
And bring that wo’ me to present the next.

Sis.  Whose hand, deare servant?

De.  He is not worth the nameing; las, this does not
Deserve your knowledge.  Only thinke what I
Dare do when your bright name is question[e]d,
And I in tyme may merit to be cald
The darling of your virgin thoughts.