Enter Gertrude.
Gert. Keep your station: you stand as well for the encounter as may be: she is coming on; but as melancholy as a bass-viol in concert.
W. Rash. Which makes thee as sprightly as the treble. Now dost thou play thy prize: here's the honourable science, one against another. Do you hear, lover; the thing is done you wot of; you shall have your wench alone without any disturbance; now if you can do any good, why so; the silver game be yours; we'll stand by and give aim,[202] and halloo, if you hit the clout.
Staines. 'Tis all the assistance I request of you.
Bring me but opportunely to her presence,
And I desire no more; and if I cannot win her,
Let me lose her.
Gert. Well, sir, let me tell you, perhaps you undertake
A harder task than yet you do imagine.
Staines. A task! what, to win a woman, and have opportunity? I would that were a task, i' faith, for any man that wears his wits about him. Give me but half an hour's conference with the coldest creature of them all; and if I bring her not into a fool's paradise, I'll pull out my tongue, and hang it at her door for a draw-latch. Ud's foot! I'd ne'er stand thrumming of caps for the matter; I'll quickly make trial of her. If she love to have her beauty praised, I'll praise it; if her wit, I'll commend it; if her good parts, I'll exalt them. No course shall 'scape me; for to whatsoever I saw her inclined, to that would I fit her.
W. Rash. But you must not do thus to her; for she's a subtle, flouting rogue, that will laugh you out of countenance, if you solicit her seriously. No, talk me to her wantonly, slightly, and carelessly, and perhaps so you may prevail as much with her as wind does with a sail—carry her whither thou wilt, bully.
Enter Joyce.
Staines. Well, sir, I'll follow your instruction.