Pis. You say right well; and do but think thereon,
How husband's honour'd years, long car'd-for wealth,
Wise stayedness, experienc'd government,
Doth grace the maid, that thus is made a wife,
And you will wish yourself such, on my life.
Wal. I think I must turn womankind altogether, and scratch out his eyes; for as long as he can see me, he'll ne'er let me go. [Aside.
Pis. But go, sweetheart, to bed: I do thee wrong.
The lateness now makes all our talk seem long. [Exit.
Enter Anthony.
How now, Mouche, be the girls abed?
Anth. Mathea, and it like you, fain would sleep,
But only tarrieth for her bed-fellow.
Pis. Ha! say you well: come, light her to her chamber.
Good rest wish I to thee. Wish so to me;
Then Susan and Pisaro shall agree.
Think but what joy is near your bed-fellow:
Such may be yours. Take counsel of your pillow:
To-morrow we'll talk more; and so good night,
Think what is said may be, if all hit right.
Wal. What, have I pass'd the pikes? knows he not Ned?
I think I have deserved his daughter's bed.
Anth. 'Tis well, 'tis well: but this let me request,
You keep unknown, till you be laid to rest:
And then a good hand speed you.