Lor. He takes me for a Shee-Broker, but I’le fit him:
I haue my Lord, but find her so obdure,
That when I speake, she turnes away her eare,
As if her mind were fixt on something else.
The other day, finding her Grace alone,
I came and mou’d your suit; told her how deare
She stood in your affection; and protested,
You lou’d her more then all the World beside.
Nic. Good, good: proceed.
Lor. At this she answer’d not a word,