Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.
200 Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet. Her mother’s, I have heard.
[202] Long. God’s blessing on your beard!
Boyet. Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
[205] Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.
[207] Boyet. Not unlike, sir, that may be. [Exit Long.