Ver. As I was drinking, I was thinking, trust me,
How fortunate our kind host was to meet with
So chaste a wife. Troth, tell me, good Count Lodowick,
Admit Heaven had her——
Lod. O good your grace, do not wound me—
Admit Heaven had her! 'las, what should Heaven do with her?
Ver. Your love makes you thus passionate; but admit so:
Faith, what wife would you choose?
Lod. Were I to choose then, as I would I were, so this were at Japan,
I would wish, my lord, a wife so like my lady,
That once a week she should go to confession;
And to perform the penance she should run,
Nay, should do nought but dream on't, till 'twere done.
Jas. A delicate memento to put her in mind of her penance. [Aside.
Dor. Now you talk of dreams, sweetheart, I'll tell ye a very unhappy one: I was a-dreamed last night of Francis there.
Lod. Of Frank?
Dor. Nay, I have done with him.
Lod. Now your grace shall see the devil outdone.