Fra. Would I were able, Sir,
From either of your worths to merit thanks.
Clor. But Brother, is your friend thus sad still? methinks
'Tis an unseemly nature in a Souldier.
Jac. What hath she to do with me, or my behaviour?
Fab. He do's but shew so, prethee to him Sister.
Jac. If I do not break thy head, I am no Christian,
If I get off once.
Clor. Sir, we must intreat you
To think your self more welcom, and be merry,
'Tis pity a fair man of your proportion
Should have a soul of sorrow.
Jac. Very well;
Pray Gentlewoman what would you have me say?
Clora. Do not you know, Sir?
Jac. Not so well as you
That talk continually.
Fran. You have hit her, Sir.