Fre. I would tell thee,
But 'tis a thing thou canst not like.
Sor. Pray ye speak it, is it my head? I have it ready for ye, Sir:
Is't any action in my power? my wit?
I care not of what nature, nor what follows.
Fre. I am in love.
Sor. That's the least thing of a thousand,
The easiest to atchieve.
Fre. But with whom, Sorano?
Sor. With whom you please, you must not be deny'd, Sir.
Fred. Say it be with one of thy Kinswomen.
Sor. Say withal,
I shall more love your Grace, I shall more honour ye,
And would I had enough to serve your pleasure.
Fred. Why 'tis thy Sister then, the fair Evanthe,
I'le be plain with thee.
Sor. I'le be as plain with you, Sir,
She brought not her perfections to the world,
To lock them in a case, or hang 'em by her,
The use is all she breeds 'em for, she is yours, Sir.