Ros. Her clothes sit handsom too.
Lil. She dresses prettily.
Ros. And by my faith she is rich, she looks still sweeter.
A well bred woman, I warrant her.
Lil. Do you hear, Sir;
May I crave this Gentlewomans name?
Pi. Mariana, Lady.
Lil. I will not say I ow ye a quarel Monsieur
For making me your Stale: a noble Gentleman
Would have had more courtesie; at least, more faith,
Than to turn off his Mistris at first trial:
You know not what respect I might have shew'd ye;
I find ye have worth.
Pi. I cannot stay to answer ye;
Ye see my charge: I am beholding to ye
For all your merry tricks ye put upon me,
Your bobs, and base accounts: I came to love ye,
To wooe ye, and to serve ye; I am much indebted to ye
For dancing me off my legs; and then for walking me;
For telling me strange tales I never heard of,
More to abuse me; for mistaking me,
When ye both knew I was a Gentleman,
And one deserv'd as rich a match as you are.
Lil. Be not so bitter, Sir.
Pi. You see this Lady:
She is young enough, and fair enough to please me,
A woman of a loving mind, a quiet,
And one that weighs the worth of him that loves her,
I am content with this, and bless my fortune,
Your curious Wits, and Beauties.
Lil. Faith see me once more.