Enter Sir Geffery, Crackby, [Suc]ett [and Bun]ch.

Sir Gef.  O here she is.—­Lady, I and my Nephew, being your good neighbors and of the worshipfull, I of the Country, he of the Cittie, have long desird a match with your daughters, but they are coy, so childish, so unmannerly; I know not how to terme them:  they dispise who worship offers them, they may[110] hereafter doe worse and have worse, madam.

Crac.  My uncle tells your ladiship the truth:  We are noe peasants[111] or unhonorable To be affronted with indignities.

Suc.  Here are men that has seene service.

Bunch.  At a mustring or ith Artillery[112] garden.

Lady.  ’Twas past my pleasure, good Sir Geffery, you have had such harch entertainement from them:  henceforth Ile lay my charge upon them to be more tractable.—­Mr. Alexander, goe call my daughters hither.

Lov.  She turnes againe.—­I shall with all celerity wish them to approach. [Exit.

Sir Gef.  Certainly, Madam, I can see no cause Wherefore at first you might not, without putting My Knighthood to this trouble, have matched with me Your selfe; it had been somewhat fitter.

    Enter Belisea and Clariana.

Bel.  Are these fooles here?

Lady.  Minions you might have expresd more kindnes
In your behaviour to these Gent[lemen]
Whom my strict caire provided for your husbands.

Bel.  I hope they cannot blame us, we have usd them With that respect our modesties allowd.

Lady.  Your peevish nicenes settle your affections To a more fayre demeaner towards their worth, Or you shall seeke a Mother and a portion.

Crac.  Nay, if you take away their portions, Ile Meddle no further with them.

Lady.  You both heare
My not to be revoaked intention
Respect this knight and his nephew in the way
Of marriage, or I shall take another order with you.
          
                                           [Exit.

Cla.  Was it you, good knight of the ill favord Countenance, Who procurd us these loving admonitions?

Sir Gef.  Nay, and you begin agen, Ile call your Ladie Mother.

Suc.  I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady, You do not cast a favorable aspect.

Bel.  I am no Plannet.

Crac.  Captaine, you doe me palpable affront:  She is the election of my understanding.

Sir Geff.  Retort not so abstrusly.—­Will you disdain
The good of honour, condiscend to me
And youthfull write me, lady, in your stile,
And to each thread of thy sun-daseling h[air]
Ile hang a pearle as orient as the gemmes
The eastern Queenes doe boast of.  When thou walk[st],
The country lasses, crownd with gorgeous flo[w]res,
Shall fill each path and dance their rural jigs
In honour of this bewty.