Luc. To tell you true, sir, he is one of those,
Whom love and fortune have conspir'd to fool,
And make the subject of a woman's will.
His idle brain, being void of better reason,
Is fill'd with toys and humours; and, for want
Of other exercise, he takes great pains
For the expressing of his folly: sometimes
With starts and sighs, hung head, and folded arms,
Sonnets and pitiful tunes; forgetting
All due respect unto himself and friends
With doating on a mistress: she again
As little pitying him, whose every frown
Strikes him as dead as fate, and makes him walk
The living monument of his own sorrow.
Lor. I apprehend he came a-wooing to thee.
'Tis so, and thou didst scorn him, girl: 'twas well done.
I'll ease thee of that care: see, I have brought
A husband to thy hand. Look on him well;
A worthy man, and a clarissimo.
Luc. A husband, said you? Now Venus be propitious!
He looks more like the remedy of love,
A julip to cool it. She that could take fire
At such a dull flame as his eyes, I should
Believe her more than touchwood! [Aside.
Moc. A ravishing creature!
If her condition answer but her feature,
I am fitted. Her form answers my affection;
It arrides[316] me exceedingly. I'll speak to her. [Aside.
Fair mistress, what your father has propos'd
In the fair way of contract, I stand ready
To ratify; and let me not seem less
In your esteem, because I am so easy
In my consent. Women love out of fancy,
Men from advice.
Luc. You do not mean in earnest?
Now Cupid deliver me!
Moc. How, not in earnest!
As I am strong and mighty in desires,
You wrong me to question it.
Luc. Good sir, consider
The infinite distance that is between us
In age and manners.
Moc. No distance at all:
My age is youthful, and your youth is aged.
Luc. But you are wise, and will you sell your freedom
Unto a female tyranny, in despair
E'er to be quit? You run a strange adventure,
Without perceiving what a certain hazard
A creature of my inclination
Is apt to draw you to.
Moc. I cannot think it.