Gera. Why do you say I flatter?
Gert. Why! you do;
And so do all men when they women woo.
Gera. Who looks on heaven, and not admires the work?
Who views a well-cut diamond does not praise
The beauty of the stone? if these deserve
The name of excellent, I lack a word
For thee, which merit'st more—
More than the tongue of man can attribute.
Gert. This is pretty poetry: good fiction, this.
Sir, I must leave you.
Gera. Leave with me first some comfort.
Gert. What would you crave?
Gera. That which I fear you will not let me have.
Gert. You do not know my bounty. Say what 'tis?
Gera. No more, fair creature, than a modest kiss.