Elder Lo.  This senseless woman vexes me to th’ heart, she will not from my memory:  would she were a man for one two hours, that I might beat her.  If I had been unhansome, old or jealous, ’thad been an even lay she might have scorn’d me; but to be young, and by this light I think as proper as the proudest; made as clean, as straight, and strong backt; means and manners equal with the best cloth of silver Sir i’th’ kingdom:  But these are things at some time of the Moon, below the cut of Canvas:  sure she has some Meeching Rascal in her house, some Hind, that she hath seen bear (like another Milo) quarters of Malt upon his back, and sing with’t, Thrash all day, and i’th’ evening in his stockings, strike up a Hornpipe, and there stink two hours, and ne’re a whit the worse man; these are they, these steel chin’d Rascals that undo us all.  Would I had been a Carter, or a Coachman, I had done the deed e’re this time.

Enter Servant.

Ser.  Sir, there’s a Gentleman without would speak with you.

Elder Lo.  Bid him come in.

Enter Welford.

Wel.  By your leave Sir.

Elder Lo.  You are welcome, what’s your will Sir?

Wel.  Have you forgotten me?

Elder Lo.  I do not much remember you.

Wel.  You must Sir.  I am that Gentleman you pleas’d to wrong, in your disguise, I have inquired you out.

Elder Lo.  I was disguised indeed Sir if I wrong’d you, pray where and when?

Wel.  In such a Ladies house, I need not name her.

Elder Lo.  I do remember you, you seem’d to be a Sutor to that Lady?

Wel.  If you remember this, do not forget how scurvily you us’d me:  that was no place to quarrel in, pray you think of it; if you be honest you dare fight with me, without more urging, else I must provoke ye.

Elder Lo.  Sir I dare fight, but never for a woman, I will not have her in my cause, she’s mortal, and so is not my anger:  if you have brought a nobler subject for our Swords, I am for you; in this I would be loth to prick my Finger.  And where you say I wrong’d you, ’tis so far from my profession, that amongst my fears, to do wrong is the greatest:  credit me we have been both abused, (not by our selves, for that I hold a spleen, no sin of malice, and may with man enough be best forgoten,) but by that willfull, scornful piece of hatred, that much forgetful Lady:  for whose sake, if we should leave our reason, and run on upon our sense, like Rams, the little world of good men would laugh at us, and despise us, fixing upon our desperate memories the never-worn out names of Fools and Fencers.  Sir ’tis not fear, but reason makes me tell you; in this I had rather help you Sir, than hurt you, and you shall find it, though you throw your self into as many dangers as she offers, though you redeem her lost name every day, and find her out new honours with your Sword, you shall but be her mirth as I have been.