Thom. She is a woman;
But him she entertains next for a servant,
I shall be bold to quarter.
Dor. No thought of fighting;
Go in, and there we'll talk more, be but rul'd,
And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Alice, and Mary.
Alice. He cannot be so wild still.
Mary. 'Tis most certain,
I have now heard all, and all the truth.
Alice. Grant all that;
Is he the first that has been giv'n a lost man,
And yet come fairly home? he is young and tender,
And fit for that impression your affections
Shall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion,
A year hence, these mad toys that now possess him
Will shew like Bugbears to him, shapes to fright him;
Marriage dissolves all these like mists.
Mary. They are grounded
Hereditary in him, from his father,
And to his grave they will haunt him.
Alice. 'Tis your fear
Which is a wise part in you; yet your love
However you may seem to lessen it
With these dislikes, and choak it with these errors,
Do what you can, will break out to excuse him,
Ye have him in your heart, and planted, Cousin,
From whence the power of reason, nor discretion
Can ever root him.
Mary. Planted in my heart, Aunt?
Believe it no, I never was so liberal;
What though he shew a so so comely fellow
Which we call pretty? or say it may be handsom?
What though his promises may stumble at
The power of goodness in him, sometimes use too?