Leon. That of a wise and provident Steward,
You are turn'd stark Ass.
Mal. Urge that point home, I am so.
Leon. That you adore the ground she treads upon,
And kiss her footsteps.
Mal. As I do when I find their print in the snow.
Leon. A loving fool I know it,
By your bloudless frosty lips; then having related
How much you suffer for her, and how well
You do deserve it—
Mal. How? to suffer?
Leon. No, Sir, to have your love return'd.
Mal. That's good, I thank you.
Leon. I will deliver her an Inventory
Of your good parts: as this, your precious nose
Dropping affection; your high forehead reaching
Almost to the Crown of your head; your slender waste,
And a back not like a threshers, but a bending,
And Court-like back, and so forth, for your Body.
But when I touch your mind, for that must take her,
(Since your out-side promises little) I'll enlarge it,
(Though ne'r so narrow) as your arts to thrive,
Your composition with the Cook and Butler
For Cony-Skins and Chippings, and half a share
With all the under Officers of the house,
In strangers bounties, that she shall have all,
And you as 'twere her Bailiff.
Mal. As I will be.