selfe binds upon reason, wilt thou looke for congruity in a woman? why? there is not one woman amongst one thousand, but will speake false Latine, and breake Priscians head.  Attempt nothing that you may with great reason doubt of and out of doubt you shall obtaine nothing.  I tell thee, friend, the eminent confidence of strong spirits is the onely witch-craft of this World, Spirits wrastling with spirits as bodies with bodies:  this were enough to make thee hope well, if she were one of these painted communities, that are ravisht with Coaches, and upper hands,[13] and brave men of durt:  but thou knowest friend shees a good scholler, and like enough to bite at the rightest reason, and reason evermore Ad optima hortatur:  to like that which is best, not that which is bravest, or rightest, or greatest, and so consequently worst.  But prove what shee can, wee will turne her, and winde her, and make her so plyant, that we will drawe her thorugh a wedding ring yfaith.

Cla.  Would to God we might, my Lord.

Mom.  He warrant thee, friend.

    Enter Messenger.

Mes.  Here is Mistris Wynnifred from my Lady Eugenia desires to speake with your Lordshippe.

Mom.  Marrie, enter, Mistris Wynnifred, even here I pray thee;—­from the Lady Eugenia, doe you heare, friend?

Cla.  Very easily on that side, my Lord.

Mom.  Let me feele.  Does not thy heart pant apace? by my hart, well labor’d Cupid, the field is yours, sir.  God! and upon a very honourable composition.  I am sent for now I am sure, and must even trusse, and to her.

    Enter Wynnifred.

Witty Mistris Wynnifred, nay come neere, woman.  I am sure this Gentleman thinkes his Chamber the sweeter for your deare presence.

Wyn.  My absence shall thanke him, my Lord.

Mom.  What, rude?  Mistris Wynnifred? nay faith you shall come to him, and kisse him, for his kindenesse.

Wyn.  Nay good, my Lord, I’le never goe to the market for that ware, I can have it brought home to my Dore.

Mom.  O Wynnifred, a man may know by the market-folkes how the market goes.

Wyn.  So you may, my Lord, but I know few Lords that thinke scorne to go to that market themselves.

Mom.  To goe to it Wynnifred? nay to ride to it yfaith.

Wyn.  Thats more then I know my Lord.

Mom.  Youle not beleeve it till you are then a horsebacke, will ye?

Wyn.  Come, come, I am sent of a message to you, will you heare it?

Mom.  Stoppe, stoppe, faire Wynnifred, would you have audience so soone, there were no state in that yfaith.  This faire gentlewoman sir—­

Wyn.  Now we shall have a fiction I beleive.