Char. Why, you repent then?
Mont. Faith no worse than I am I cannot be;
Much better I expect not: I shall love you,
And when you bid me go to bed, obey,
Lie still or move, as you shall minister;
Keep a four-Nobles Nag, and a Jack
Merling, learn to love Ale, and play at Two-hand Irish,
And there's then all I aim at.
Char. Nay sweet fellow, I'll make it something better.
Mont. If you do, you'll make me worse:
Now I am poor, and willing to do well,
Hold me in that course; of all the Kings creatures,
I hate his coin, keep me from that, and save me;
For if you chance out of your housewivery
To leave a hundred pound or two, bestow it
In Plumb-broth e'r I know it, else I take it;
Seek out a hundred men that want this money,
Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble Montague,
And so I stand again at livery.
Char. You have pretty fancies, Sir, but married once,
This charity will fall home to your self.
Mont. I would it would, I am afraid my looseness
Is yet scarce stopt, though it have nought to work on
But the meer air of what I have had.
Char. Pretty.
Mont. I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me,
I can see nothing in my self deserves it,
Unless the handsome wearing of a band,
For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters;
Necessity will not let me loose.
Char. I see Sir, a great deal more, a handsome man, a Husband,
To make a right good woman truly happy.
Mont. Lord, where are my eyes, either you are foolish
As wenches once a year are, or far worse,
Extreamly virtuous, can you love a poor man
That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings,
One only suit to his back, which now is mewing?
But what will be the next coat will pose Tristram.
If I should leavy from my friends a fortune:
I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.