Enter CASTILIANO.
But here the doctor comes.
LACY. Then I'll away,
Lest he suspect aught by my being here. [Exit.
MOR. Do, and let me alone to close with him.
CAS. May he ne'er speak that makes a woman speak!
She talks now sure for all the time that's pass'd:
Her tongue is like a scarecrow in a tree,
That clatters still with every puff of wind.
I have so haunted her from place to place:
About the hall, from thence into the parlour,
Up to the chamber, down into the garden,
And still she rails, and chafes, and scolds,
As if it were the sessions-day in hell.
Yet will I haunt her with an open mouth,
And never leave her till I force her love me.
MOR. Now, master doctor; what, a match or no?
CAS. A match, quoth you? I think the devil himself
Cannot match her; for, if he could, I should. [Aside.]
MOR. Well, be content: 'tis I must work the mean
To make her yield, whether she will or no.
My Lord of Kent is gone hence in a chafe,
And now I purpose that she shall be yours,
Yet to herself unknown; for she shall think
That Musgrave is the man, but it shall be you:
Seem you still discontented, and no more.
Go, Mariana, call thy mistress hither.
Now, when she comes, dissemble what you know,
And go away, as if you car'd not for her;
So will she the sooner be brought into it.
[Exit MARIAN.
CAS. My lord, I thank you for your honest care,
And, as I may, will study to requite it.