Lod. I do, Sir.
Pis. This is a short præludium to a challenge.
Fa. I have a message, Sir, that much concerns you,
And for your special good; nay, you may hear too.
Pis. What should this fellow mean?
Fath. There is a Lady,
(How the poor thing begins to warm already)
Come to this town, (as yet a stranger here, Sir)
Fair, young, and rich, both in possessions,
And all the graces that make up a Woman,
A Widow, and a vertuous one; it works,
He needs no broth upon't.
Lod. What of her, Sir?
Fath. No more but this; she loves you.
Lod. Loves me?
Fath. Yes,
And with a strong affection, but a fair one,
If ye be wise and thankful ye are made; there's the whole matter.
Lod. I am sure I hear this.