Cun. A my troth Gentlewoman,
Rumor's as false a knave as ever pist then,
Pray tell him so from me; I cannot fain
With a sweet Gentlewoman, I must deal down right.
Mir. I heard, though you dissembled with my Aunt, Sir,
And that makes me more confident.
Cun. There's no falshood,
But payes us our own some way, I confess
I Fain'd with her, 'twas for a weightier purpose,
But not with thee, I swear.
Mir. Nor I with you then,
Although my Aunt enjoyn'd me to dissemble,
To right her splene, I love you faithfully.
Cun. Light, this is worse than 'twas.
Mir. I find such worth in you,
I cannot, nay I dare not dally with you,
For fear the flame consume me.
Cun. Here's fresh trouble,
This drives me to my conscience, for 'tis foul
To injure one that deals directly with me.
Mir. I crave but such a truth from your love, Sir,
As mine brings you, and that's proportionable.
Cun. A good Geometrician, 'shrew my heart;
Why are you out o'your wits, pretty plump Gentlewoman,
You talk so desperately? 'tis a great happiness,
Love has made one on's wiser than another,
We should be both cast away else;
Yet I love gratitude, I must requite you,
I shall be sick else, but to give you me,
A thing you must not take, if you mean to live,
For a' my troth I hardly can my self;
No wise Physitian will prescribe me for you.
Alass, your state is weak, you had need of Cordials,
Some rich Electuary, made of a Son an Heir,
An elder brother, in a Cullisse, whole,
'Tmust be some wealthy Gregory, boyl'd to a Jelly,
That must restore you to the state of new Gowns,
French Ruffs, and mutable head-tires.
Mir. But, Where is he, Sir?
One that's so rich will ne'er wed me with nothing.