Ant. A rich Diamond
Set neat and deep, Natures chief Art (Martine)
Is to reserve her Models curious,
Not cumbersome and great; and such an one
For fear she should exceed, upon her matter
Has she fram'd this; Oh 'tis a spark of beauty,
And where they appear so excellent in little,
They will but flame in great; Extention spoils 'em:
Martine learn this, the narrower that our eyes
Keep way unto our object, still the sweeter
That comes unto us: Great bodies are like Countries,
Discovering still, toyl and no pleasure finds 'em.
Mar. A rare Cosmographer for a small Island,
Now I believe she is handsome.
Ant. Believe heartily,
Let thy belief, though long a coming, save thee.
Mar. She was (certain) fair.
Ant. But heark ye (friend Martine)
Do not believe your self too far before me,
For then you may wrong me, Sir.
Mar. Who bid ye teach me?
Do you show me meat, and stitch my lips (Antonio?)
Is that fair play?
Ant. Now if thou shouldst abuse me,
And yet I know thee for an errant wencher,
A most immoderate thing, thou canst not love long.
Mar. A little serves my turn, I fly at all games,
But I believe.
Ant. How if we never see her more?
She is our enemy.
Mar. Why are you jealous then?
As far as I conceive she hates our whole House.