Cun. Hah, Sir Gregory?
Nee. Where e'er you come, you may well boast your conquest.
Cun. She's lost y'faith, enough, has fortune then
Remembred her great boy? she seldom fails 'em.
Nee. H' was the unlikeliest man at first, methought,
To have my love, we never met but wrangled.
Cun. A pox upon that wrangling, say I still,
I never knew it fail yet, where e'er't came;
It never comes but like a storm of hail,
'Tis sure to bring fine weather at the tail on't,
There's not one match 'mongst twenty made without it,
It fights i' th' tongue, but sure to agree i' th' haunches.
Nee. That man that should ha' told me when time was.
I should ha' had him, had been laught at piteously,
But see how things will change!
Cun. Here's a heart feels it—Oh the deceitful promises of love!
What trust should a man put i' th' lip of woman?
She kist me with that strength, as if sh'ad meant
To ha' set the fair print of her soul upon me.
Nee. I would ha' sworn 'twould ne'er ha been a match once.
Cun. I'll hear no more, I'm mad to hear so much,
Why should I aim my thoughts at better fortunes
Than younger brothers have? that's a Maid with nothing,
Or some old Soap-boilers Widow, without Teeth,
There waits my fortune for me, seek no farther. [Ex. Cun.
Enter Old Knight, and Sir Gregory.