1 Gent. They both give but one kind of colour, Sir:
If it be bashfulness in that kind taken,
It is the same with grace; and there she weeps agen.
In truth y'are too hard, much, much too bitter Sir,
Unless you mean to have her weep her eyes out,
To play a Cupid truly.
1 Bro. Come ha' done then:
We should all fear to sin first; for 'tis certain,
When 'tis once lodg'd, though entertain'd in mirth,
It must be wept out, if it e'er come forth.
1 Gent. Now 'tis so well, I'll leave you.
1 Bro. Faithfully welcome, Sir,
Go Cupid to your charge; he's your own now;
If he want love, none will be blam'd but you.
Cu. The strangest marriage, and unfortunat'st Bride
That ever humane memory contain'd;
I cannot be my self for't. [Exit.
Enter the Clown.
Clow. Oh Gentlemen?
1 Bro. How now, Sir, what's the matter?
Clo. His melancholly passion is half spent already,
Then comes his angry fit at the very tail on't,
Then comes in my pain, gentlemen; h'as beat me e'en to a
Cullis. I am nothing, right worshipful, but very pap,
And jelly: I have no bones, my body's all one business,
They talk of ribs and chines most freely abroad i'th' world,
Why, I have no such thing; who ever lives to see me dead,
Gentlemen, shall find me all mummie good to fill Gallipots,
And long dildo glasses: I shall not have a bone to throw
At a dog.
Omnes. Alas poor vassal; how he goes!