Elder Lo. By your leave here.
Lady. How now, what new trick invites you hither? Ha'you a fine device again?
Elder Lo. Faith this is the finest device I have now: How dost thou sweet heart?
Wel. Why very well, so long as I may please You my dear Lover. I nor can, nor will Be ill when you are well, well when you are ill.
Elder Lo. O thy sweet temper! what would I have given, that Lady had been like thee: seest thou her? that face (my love) join'd with thy humble mind, had made a wench indeed.
Wel. Alas my love, what God hath done, I dare not think to mend. I use no paint, nor any drugs of Art, my hands and face will shew it.
La. Why what thing have you brought to shew us there? do you take mony for it?
Elder Lo. A Godlike thing, not to be bought for mony: 'tis my Mistris: in whom there is no passion, nor no scorn: what I will is for law; pray you salute her.
Lady. Salute her? by this good light, I would not kiss her for half my wealth.
Elder Lo. Why? why pray you? You shall see me do't afore you; look you.