Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne
Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue,
Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,
Giue me a Case to put my visage in,
A Visor for a Visor, what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities:
Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me
Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in,
But euery man betake him to his legs
Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart
Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles:
For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase,
Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on,
The game was nere so faire, and I am done
Mer. Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word,
If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire.
Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest
Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho
Rom. Nay that's not so
Mer. I meane sir I delay,
We wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day;
Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits
Fiue times in that, ere once in our fiue wits
Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske,
But 'tis no wit to go
Mer. Why may one aske?
Rom. I dreampt a dreame to night
Mer. And so did I