Fran. Sure thou wouldst have me love.
Clo. Yes marry would I,
I should not please ye else.
Fran. And who for Heavens sake?
For I assure my self, I know not yet:
And prethee Clora, since thou'lt have it so
That I must love, and do I know not what:
Let him be held a pretty handsome fellow,
And young, and if he be a little valiant
'Twill be the better; and a little wise,
And faith a little honest.
Clor. Well I will sound ye yet for all your craft.
Fran. Heigh ho! I'le love no more.
Clo. Than one; and him
You shall love Frank.
Fran. Which him? thou art so wise
People will take thee shortly for a Witch:
But prethee tell me Clora, if I were
So mad as thou wouldst make me, what kind of man
Wouldst thou imagine him?
Clo. Faith some pretty fellow,
With a clean strength, that cracks a cudgel well
And dances at a Wake, and plays at Nine-holes.
Fran. O what pretty commendations thou hast given him!
Faith if I were in love as I thank Heaven
I do not think I am; this short Epistle
Before my love would make me burn the Legend.
Clor. You are too wild, I mean some Gentleman.