Doct. It may be Sir.
Vil. Birlady, it may turn to a dry dyet;
And how thy grace, will ward that—
Cast. Stand off Doctor;
And talk to those that want faith.
Fer. Hot and mighty.
Asca. He will cool apace, no doubt.
Cast. Fair, plump, and red,
A forehead high, an eye revives the dead;
A lip like ripest fruit, inviting still.
Vil. But O, the rushy well, below the hill,
Take heed of that, for though it never fail
Take heed I say, for thereby hangs a tail.
Cast. I'll get ye all with Child.
Vil. With one Child Brother,
So many men in a Blew Coat.
Cast. Had I fed well,
And drunk good store of wine, ye had been blest all,
Blest all with double Births; come kiss me greedily,
And think no more upon your foolish Husbands,
They are transitory things: a Kings fame meets you.