Lecure. Give me leave,
If my art fail me not, I have thought on
A speeding project.
Brun. What [ist]? but effect it,
And thou shalt be my Æsculapius,
Thy image shall be set up in pure gold,
To which I'll fall down and worship it.
Lecure. The Lady is fair.
Brun. Exceeding fair.
Lecure. And young.
Brun. Some fifteen at the most.
Lecure. And loves the King with equall ardor.
Brun. More, she dotes on him.
Lecure. Well then, [what] think you if I make a drink
Which given unto him on the bridall night
Shall for five days so rob his faculties,
Of all ability to pay that duty,
Which new made wives expect, that she shall swear
She is not match'd to a man.
Prota. 'Twere rare.