Mir. Too strange for me; I must have those have mettle,
And mettle to my mind; Come, let's be merry.
Bel. 'Bless me from this woman: I would stand the Cannon
Before ten words of hers.
De-Gar. Do you find him now?
Do you think he will be ever firm?
Or. I fear not. [Exeunt.
[Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.]
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, Belleur.
Mir. Ne'r tell me of this happiness, 'tis nothing;
The state they bring with being sought to scurvey,
I had rather make mine own play, and I will do.
My happiness is in mine own content,
And the despising of such glorious trifles,
As I have done a thousand more. For my humour,
Give me a good free fellow, that sticks to me,
A jovial fair Companion; there's a Beauty:
For women, I can have too many of them;
Good women too, as the Age reckons 'em,
More than I have employment for.
Pin. You are happy.
Mir. My only fear is, that I must be forced
Against my nature, to conceal my self.
Health, and an able Body are two jewels.