University of Virginia Library

Actus Secundus.

Scena Prima.

Enter Mirabell, Pinac, Bellure.
Mir.
Ne'r tel me of this happiness, 'tis nothing;
The state they bring with being sought to scurvey,
I had rather make mine own play, and I will do.
My happiness is in mine own content,
And the despising of such glorious trifles,
As I have done a thousand more. For my humour
Give me a good free fellow, that sticks to me,
A joviall fair companion; there's a Beauty:
For women, I can have too many of them;
Good women too, as the Age reckons 'em,
More than I have employment for.

Pi.
You are happy.

Mir.
My only fear is, that I must be forced
Against my nature, to conceal my self.
Health, and an able body are two jewels.

Pi.
If either of these two women were offer'd to me now,
I would think otherwise, and do accordingly:
Yes, and recant my heresies, I would Sir;
And be more tender of opinion,
And put a little off my travail'd Libertie
Out of the way, and look upon 'em seriously.
Me-thinks this grave-carried wench.

Bel.
Me-thinks the other,
The home-spoken Gentle-woman, that desires to be fruitfull,
That treats of the full mannage of the matter,
For there lies all my aim; that wench, me-thinks
If I were but well set-on; for she is a fable,
If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me;
She speaks to th' matter, and comes home to th' point:
Now do I know I have such a body to please her,
As all the kingdom cannot fit her with, I am sure on't,
If I could but talk my self into her favour.

Mir.
That's easily done.

Bel.
That's easily said, would 'twere done;
You should see then how I would lay about me;
If I were vertuous, it would never grieve me,
Or any thing that might justifie my modesty,
But when my nature is prone to do a charitie,
And my calfs-tongue will not help me.

Mir.
Will ye go to 'em?
They cannot but take it curteously.

Pi.
I'll do my part,
Though I am sure 'twil be the hardest I e'r plaid yet,
A way I never try'd too, which will stagger me,
And if it do not shame me, I am happy.

Mir.
Win 'em, and wear 'em, I give up my interest.

Pi.
What say ye, Mousieur Bellure?

Bel.
Would I could say,
Or sing, or any thing that were but handsom,
I would be with her presently.

Pi.
Yours is no venture;
A merry ready wench.

Bel.
A vengeance squibber;
She'll fleer me out of faith too.

Mir.
I'll be near thee;
Pluck up thy heart, I'll second thee at all brunts;
Be angry if she abuse thee, and beat her a little,
Some women are won that way.

Bel.
Pray be quiet,
And let me think: I am resolv'd to go on;
But how I shall get off again—

Mir.
I am perswaded
Thou wilt so please her, she will go neer to ravish thee.

Bel.
I would 'twere come to that once: Let me pray a little.

Mir.
Now for thine honor Pinac; board me this modesty,
Warm but this frozen snow-ball, 'twill be a conquest
(Although I know thou art a fortunate Wencher,
And hast done rarely in thy daies) above all thy ventures.

Bel.
You will be ever neer?

Mir.
At all necessities,
And take thee off, and set thee on again, Boy;
And cherish thee, and stroak thee.

Bel.
Help me out too?
For I know I shall stick 'ith' mire: if ye see us close once,
Be gone, and leave me to my fortune, suddainly,
For I am then determin'd to do wonders.
Farewell, and fling an old shooe: how my heart throbs?
Would I were drunk: Farewell Pinac; heaven send us
A joyfull and a merry meeting, man.

Pi.
Farewell,
And chear thy heart up; and remember Bellure
They are but women.

Bel.
I had rather they were Lyons.

Mir.
About it; Ill be with you instantly.
Exeunt.
Shall I ne'r be at rest? no peace of conscience?
Enter Oriana.
No quiet for these creatures? Am I ordain'd
To be devour'd quick by these she-Canibals?
Here's another they call handsom, I care not for her,
I ne'r look after her: When I am half tipled
It may be I should turn her, and peruse her,
Or in my want of women, I might call for her;
But to be haunted when I have no fancie,
No maw to th' matter—Now, why do you follow me?

Or.
I hope, Sir, 'tis no blemish to my vertue,
Nor need you (but of scruple) ask that question,
If you remember ye, before your Travell
The contract you ty'd to me: 'tis my love, Sir,
That makes me seek ye, to confirm your memory,
And that being fair and good, I cannot suffer:
I come to give ye thanks too.

Mir.
For what 'prethee?

Or.
For that fair peece of honesty ye shew'd, Sir,
That constant nobleness.

Mir.
How? for I am short headed.

Or.
I'll tell ye then; for refusing that free offer
Of Monsieur Nantolets; those handsom Beauties,
Those two prime Ladies, that might well have prest ye,
If not to have broken, yet to have bow'd your promise.
I know it was for my sake, for your faith sake,
You slipt 'em off: your honesty compell'd ye.
And let me tell ye, Sir, it shew'd most handsomly.

Mir.
And let me tell thee, there was no such matter:
Nothing intended that way of that nature;
I have more to do with my honesty than to fool it,
Or venture it in such leak-barks as women;
I put 'em off, because I lov'd 'em not,
Because they are too queazie for my temper,
And not for thy sake, nor the Contract sake,
Nor vows, nor oathes; I have made a thousand of 'em,
They are things indifferent, whether kept or broken;
Meer veniall slips, that grow not near the Conscience;
Nothing concerns those tender parts; they are trifles;
For, as I think, there was never man yet hop'd for
Either constancie, or secrecie, from a woman,
Unless it were an Ass ordain'd for sufferance;
Nor to contract with such can be a Tiall;
So let them know again; for 'tis a Justice.
And a main point of civill policie,
Whate're we say or swear, they being Reprobates,
Out of the state of faith, we are clear of all sides,
And 'tis a curious blindness to beleeve us.

Or.
You do not mean this sure?

Mir.
Yes sure, and certain,
And hold it positively, as a Principle,
As ye are strange things, and made of strange fires and fluxes,
So we are allow'd as strange wayes to obtain ye,
But not to hold; we are all created Errant.

Or.
You told me other tales.

Mir.
I not deny it;
I have tales of all sorts for all sorts of women,
And protestations likewise of all sizes,
As they have vanities to make us coxcombs;
If I obtain a good turn, so it is,
I am thankfull for it: if I be made an Ass,
The mends are in mine own hands, or the Surgeons,
And there's an end on't.

Or.
Do not you love me then?

Mir.
As I love others, heartily I love thee,
When I am high and lusty, I love thee cruelly
After I have made a plenteous meal, and satisfi'd
My senses with all delicates, come to me,
And thou shalt see how I love thee.

Or.
Will not you mary me?

Mir.
No, certain, no, for any thing I know yet;
I must not lose my liberty, dear Lady,
And like a wanton slave cry for more shackles.
What should I mary for? Do I want any thing?
Am I an inch the farther from my pleasure?
Why should I be at charge to keep a wife of mine own,
When other honest maryed men will ease me?
And thank me too, and be beholding to me:
Thou thinkst I am mad for a Maiden head, thou art cozen'd;
Or if I were addicted to that diet
Can you tell me where I should have one? thou art eighteen now,
And if thou hast thy Maiden-head yet extant,
Sure 'tis as big as Cods-head: and those grave dishes
I never love to deal withall: Do'st thou see this book here?
Look over all these ranks; all these are Women,
Mayds, and pretenders to Maiden-heads; these are my conquests,
All these I swore to mary, as I swore to thee,
With the same reservation, and most righteously,
Which I need not have don neither; for alas they made no scruple,
And I enjoy'd 'em at my will, and left 'em:
Some of 'em are maried since, and were as pure mayds again,
Nay o'my conscience better than they were bred for;
The rest fine sober women.

Or.
Are ye not asham'd, Sir?

Mir.
No by my troth, Sir; there's no shame belongs to it;
I hold it as commendable to be wealthy in pleasure,
As others do in rotten sheep, and pasture.

Enter de Gard.
Or.
Are all my hopes come to this? is their no faith?
No troth? nor modesty in men?

de Ga.
How now Sister,
Why weeping thus? did I not prophesie?
Come tell me why—

Or.
I am not well; 'pray ye pardon me.

Exit.
de Ga.
Now Monsieur Mirabell, what ails my Sister?
You have been playing the wag with her.

Mir.
As I take it,
She is crying for a cod-peece; is she gone?
Lord, what an Age is this? I was calling for ye,
For as I live I thought she would have ravish'd me.

de Ga.
Ye are merry Sir.

Mir.
Thou know'st this book, de Gard, this Inventory.

de Ga.
The Debt-book of your Mistrisses, I remember it.

Mir.
Why this was it that anger'd her; she was stark man
She found not her name here, and cry'd down-right,
Because I would not pitty her immediately,
And put her in my list.

de G.
Sure she had more modesty.

Mir.
Their modesty is anger to be over-done;
They'll quarrell sooner for precedence here,
And take it in more dudgen to be slighted,
Than they will in publique meetings; 'tis their natures:
And alass I have so many to dispatch yet,
And to provide my self for my affairs too,
That in good faith—

de G.
Be not too glorious foolish;
Summe not your Travails up with vanities,
It ill becomes your expectation:
Temper your speech, Sir; whether your loose story
Be true, or false (for you are so free, I fear it)
Name not my Sister in't; I must not hear it;
Upon your danger name her not: I hold her
A Gentlewoman of those happy parts and carriage,
A good mans tongue may be right proud to speak her.

Mir.
Your Sister, Sir? d'ye blench at that? d'ye cavill?
Do you hold her such a peece, she may not be play'd withall?
I have had an hundred handsomer and nobler,
Has su'd to me too for such a curtesie:
Your Sister comes i'th' rear: since ye are so angry,
And hold your Sister such a strong Recusant,
I tell ye I may do it, and it may be will too,
It may be have too; there's my free confession;
Work upon that now.

de G.
If I thought ye had, I would work,
And work such stubborn work, should make your heart ake;
But I beleeve ye, as I ever knew ye,
A glorious talker, and a Legend maker
Of idle tales, and trifles; a depraver
Of your own truth; their honours fly about ye;
And so I take my leave, but with this caution,
Your sword be surer than your tongue, you'll smart else.

Mir.
I laugh at thee, so little I respect thee;
And I'll talk louder, and despise thy Sister;
Set up a Chamber-maid that shall out-shine her,
And carry her in my Coach too, and that will kill her.
Go get thy Rents up, go.

de Ga.
Ye are a fine Gentleman.

Exit.
Mir.
Now have at my two youths, I'll see how they do,
How they behave themselves, and then I'll study
What wench shall love me next, and when I'll loose her.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Pinac and a Servant.
Pi.
Art thou her servant, saist thou?

Ser.
Her poor creature,
But servant to her horse, Sir.

Pi.
Canst thou shew me
The way to her chamber? or where I may conveniently
See her, or come to talk to her?

Ser.
That I can, Sir;
But the question is whether I will or no.

Pi.
Why I'll content thee.

Ser.
Why I'll content thee then; now ye come to me.

Pi.
There's for your diligence.

Ser.
There's her chamber, Sir;
And this way she comes out; stand ye but here, Sir,
You have her at your prospect, or your pleasure.

Pi.
Is she not very angry?

Ser.
You'll find that quickly:
'May be she'll call ye sawcy scurvey fellow,
Or some such familiar name: 'may be she knows ye,
And will fling a Piss-pot at ye, or a Pantofle,
According as ye are in acquaintance: if she like ye,
'May be she'll look upon ye, 'may be no,
And two moneths hence call for ye.

Pi.
This is fine.
She is monstrous proud then?

Ser.
She is a little haughtie;
Of a small body, she has a mind well mounted.
Can ye speak Greek?

Pi.
No certain.

Ser.
Get ye gon then;
And talk of stars, and firmaments, and fire-drakes,
Do you remember who was Adams School-master,
And who taught Eve to spin? she knowes all these,
And will run ye over the beginning o'th' world
As familiar as a Fidler.
Can ye sit seven hours together, and say nothing?
Which she will do, and when she speaks speak Oracles;
Speak things that no man understands, nor her self neither.

Pi.
Thou mak'st me wonder.

Ser.
Can ye smile?

Pi.
Yes willingly:
For naturally I bear a mirth about me.

Ser.
She'll ne'r endure ye then; she is never merry;
If she see one laugh, she'll swound past Aquavitæ;
Never come near her, Sir; if ye chance to venture,
And talk not like a Doctor, you are damn'd too;
I have told ye enough for your Crown, and so good speed ye.

Ex.
Pi.
I have a pretty task, if she be thus curious,
As sure it seems she is; if I fall off now,
I shall be laugh'd at fearfully; if I go forward,
I can but be abus'd, and that I look for,
And yet I may hit right, but 'tis unlikely.
Stay, in what mood and figure shall I attempt her?
A careless way? no, no, that will not waken her;
Besides, her gravity will give me line still,
And let me lose my self; yet this way often
Has hit, and handsomly. A wanton method?
I, if she give it leave to sink into her consideration;
But there's the doubt: if it but stir her blood once,
And creep into the crannies of her phansie,
Set her a gog: but if she chance to slight it,
And by the pow'r of her modesty fling it back,
I shall appear the arrantst Rascal to her,
The most licentious knave, for I shall talk lewdly.
To bear my self austerely? rate my words,
And fling a generall gravitie about me,
As if I meant to give Laws? but this I cannot do,
This is a way above my understanding;
Or if I could, 'tis ods she'll think I mock her;
For serious and sad things are ever still suspicious.
Well, I'll say something.
But learning I have none, and less good manners,
Especially for Ladies; well, I'll set my best face;
Enter Lilia, Petella.
I hear some coming; this is the first woman
I ever fear'd yet, the first face that shakes me.

Li.
Give me my hat Petella, take this veil off,
This sullen cloud, it darkens my delights;
Come wench be free, and let the Musick warble,
Play me some lusty measure.

Pi.
This is she sure,
The very same I saw, the very woman,
The Gravitie I wonder'd at: Stay, stay,
Let me be sure; ne'r trust me, but she danceth,
Summer is in her face now, and she skippeth:
I'll go a little nearer.

Lil.
Quicker time fellows,
Enter Mirabell
I cannot find my legs yet, now Petella.

Pi.
I am amaz'd, I am founder'd in my fancie.

Mir.
Hah, say ye so; is this your gravitie?
This the austeritie ye put upon ye?
I'll see more o'this sport.

Lil.
A Song now;
Call in for a merry, and a light Song,
And sing it with a liberall spirit.

Enter a man.
Man.
Yes, Madam.

Lil.
And be not amaz'd sirha, but take us for your own company.
Let's walk our selves; come wench, would we had a man or two.

Pi.
Sure she has spi'd me, and will abuse me dreadfully,
She has put on this for the purpose; yet I will try her.
Madam, I would be loth my rude intrusion,
Which I must crave a pardon for—

Lil.
O ye are welcom,
Ye are very welcom, Sir, we want such a one;
Strike up again: I dare presume ye dance well:
Quick, quick, Sir, quick, the time steals on.

Pi.
I would talk with ye.

Lil.
Talk as ye dance.

Mir.
She'll beat him off his legs first.
This is the finest Masque.

Lil.
Now how do ye, Sir?

Pi.
You have given me a shrew'd heat.

Lil.
I'll give ye a hundred.
Come sing now, sing: for I know ye sing well.
I see ye have a singing face.

Pi.
A fine Modesty!
If I could she'd never give me breath,
Madam would I might sit and recover.

Lil.
Sit here, and sing now,
Let's do things quickly, Sir, and handsomly,
Sit close wench, close, begin, begin.

Song.
Pi.
I am lesson'd.

Lil.
'Tis very pretty y'faith, give me some wine now.

Pi.
I would fain speak to ye.

Lil.
You shall drink first believe me:
Here's to ye a lusty health.

Pi.
I thank ye Lady.
Would I were off again; I smell my misery;
I was never put to this rack; I shall be drunk too.

Mir.
If thou be'st not a right one, I have lost mine aim much:
I thank heaven that I have scap'd thee: To her Pinac;
For thou art as sure to have her, and to groan for her—
I'll see how my other youth does; this speeds trimly:
A fine grave Gentlewoman, and worth much honour.

Exit.
Lil.
Now? how do ye like me, Sir?

Pi.
I like ye rarely.

Lil.
Ye see, Sir, though sometimes we are grave and silent,
And put on sadder dispositions,
Yet we are compounded of free parts, and sometimes too
Our lighter, airie, and our fierie mettles
Break out, aud shew themselves; and what think you of that Sir?

Pi.
Good Lady sit, for I am very weary;
And then I'll tell ye.

Lil.
Fie, a young man idle:
Up, and walk; be still in action.
The motions of the body are fair beauties,
Besides 'tis cold; ods-me Sir, let's walk faster.
What think ye now of the Lady Felicia?
And Bella-fronte the Dukes fair daughter? ha?
Are they not handsom things? thereis Duarta,
And brown Olivia.

Pi.
I know none of 'em.

Lil.
But brown must not be cast away, Sir; if young Lelia
Had kept her self till this day from a husband,
Why what a Beauty, Sir? you know Ismena
The fair Jem of Saint Germins?

Pi.
By my troth I do not.

Lil.
And then I know you must hear of Brisas,
How unlike a Gentleman—

Pi.
As I live I have heard nothing.

Lil.
Strike me another Galliard.

Pi.
By this light I cannot;
In troth I have sprain'd my leg, Madam.

Lil.
Now sit ye down, Sir,
And tell me why ye came hither, why ye chose me out?
What is your business? your errant? dispatch, dispatch;
'May be ye are some Gentlemans man, and I mistook ye,
That have brought me a Letter, or a haunch of Venison,
Sent me from some friend of mine.

Pi.
Do I look like a Carrier?
You might allow me what I am, a Gentleman.

Lil.
Cry 'ye mercie, Sir, I saw ye yesterday,
You are new come out of Travail, I mistook ye;
And how do's all our impudent friends in Italie?

Pi.
Madam, I came with duty, and fair curtesie,
Service, and honour to ye.

Lil.
Ye came to jeer me:
Yee see I am merry, Sir, I have chang'd my coppy:
None of the Sages now, and 'pray ye proclame it,
Fling on me what aspersion you shall please, Sir,
Of wantonness, or wildness, I look for it;
And tell the world I am an hypocrite
Mask in a forc'd and borrow'd shape, I expect it;
But not to have you beleev'd; for mark ye, Sir,
I have won a nobler estimation,
A stronger tie by my discretion
Upon opinion (how ere you think I forced it)
Than either tongue or art of yours can slubber,
And when I please I will be what I please, Sir,
So I exceed not Mean; and none shall brand it
Either with scorn or shame, but shall be slighted.

Pi.
Lady, I come to love ye.

Lil.
Love your self, Sir.
And when I want observers, 'll send for ye:
Heigh, ho; my fit's almost off, for we do all by fits, Sir:
If ye be weary, sit till I come again to ye.

Exit.
Pi.
This is a wench of a dainty spirit; but hang me if I know yet
Either what to think, or make of her; She had her will of me,
And baited me abundantly, I thank her.
And I confess I never was so blurted,
Nor never so abus'd; I must bear mine own sins;
Ye talk of Travails, here's a curious Country,
Yet I will find her out, or forswear my facultie.

Exit.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Rosalura, and Oriana.
Ros.
Ne'r vex your self, nor grieve; ye are a fool then.

Or.
I am sure I am made so: yet before I suffer
Thus like a girl, and give him leave to triumph—

Ros.
You say right; for as long as he perceives ye
Sink under his proud scornings, he'll laugh at ye:
For me, secure your self; and for my Sister,
I partly know her mind too: howsoever
To obey my Father we have made a tender
Of our poor beauties to the travail'd Mousieur;
Yet two words to a bargain; he slights us
As skittish things, and we shun him as curious.
May be my free behaviour turns his stomach,
And makes him seem to doubt a loose opinion.
I must be so sometimes, though all the world saw it.

Or.
Why should not ye? Are our minds only measur'd?
As long as here ye stand secure.

Ros.
Ye say true;
As long as mine own conscience makes no question,
What care I for Report: That woman's miserable
That's good or bad for their tongues sake: Come let's retire.
And get my veil wench: By my troth your sorrow,
And the consideration of mens humorous maddings,
Have put me into a serious contemplation.

Enter Mirabell and Bellure.
Or.
Come 'faith, let's sit and think.

Ros.
That's all my business.

Mir.
Why standst thou peeping here? thou great slug, forward.

Bel.
She is there, peace.

Mir.
Why standst thou here then,
Sneaking, and peaking, as thou would'st steal linnen?
Hast thou not place and time?

Bel.
I had a rare speech
Studied, and almost ready, and your violence
Has beat it out of my brains.

Mir.
Hang your rare speeches,
Go me on like a man.

Bel.
Let me set my Beard up.
How has Pinac performed?

Mir.
He has won already:
He stands not thrumming of caps thus.

Bel.
Lord, what should I ail?
What a cold I have over my stomack; would I had some Hum.
Certain I have a great mind to be at her:
A mighty mind.

Mir.
On fool.

Bel.
Good words, I beseech ye;
For I will not be abused by both.

Mir.
Adieu, then,
I will not trouble you, I see you are valiant,
And work your own way.

Bel.
Hist, hist, I will be rul'd
I will y'faith, I will go presently:
Will ye forsake me now and leave me i'th' suds:
You know I am false-hearted this way; I beseech ye,
Good sweet Mirabell; I'll cut your throat if ye leave me,
Indeed I will sweet heart.

Mir.
I will be ready,
Still at thine elbow; take a mans heart to thee,
And speak thy mind: the plainer still the better.
She is a woman of that free behaviour,
Indeed that common curtesie, she cannot deny thee;
Go bravely on.

Bel.
Madam—keep close about me,
Still at my back. Madam, sweet Madam.

Ros.
Ha;
What noise is that, what saucy sound to trouble me?

Mir.
What sayd she?

Bel.
I am saucy.

Mir.
'Tis the better.

Bel.
She comes; must I be saucie still?

Mir.
More saucie.

Ros.
Still troubled with these vanities? heaven bless us;
What are we born to? would ye speak with any of my people?
Go in, Sir, I am busie.

Bel.
This is not she sure:
Is this two children at a Birth? I'll be hang'd then:
Mine was a merry Gentlewoman, talkt daintily,
Talkt of those matters that befitted women;
This is a parcell-pray'r-book; I'm serv'd sweetly;
And now I am to look too; I was prepar'd for th' other way.

Ros.
Do you know that man?

Or.
Sure I have seen him, Lady.

Ros.
Me-thinks 'tis pitty such a lusty fellow
Should wander up and down and want employment.

Bel.
She takes me for a Rogue: you may do well Madam,
To stay this wanderer, and set him a work, forsooth,
He can do something that may please your Ladiship.
I have heard of women that desire good breedings,
Two at a birth, or so.

Ros.
The fellow's impudent.

Or.
Sure he is crazed.

Ros.
I have heard of men too that have had good manners;
Sure this is want of grace; indeed 'tis great pitty
The young man has been bred so ill; but this lewd Age
Is full of such examples.

Bel.
I am founder'd,
And some shall rue the setting of me on.

Mir.
Ha? so bookish, Lady, is it possible?
Turn'd holy at the heart too? I'll be hang'd then:
Why this is such a feat, such an activitie,
Such fast and loose: a veyl too for your knavery?
O dio, dio!

Ros.
What do you take me for, Sir?

Mir.
An hypocrite, a wanton, a dissembler,
How e're ye seem, and thus ye are to be handled.
Mark me Bellure, and this you love, I know it.

Ros.
Stand off, bold Sir.

Mir.
You wear good clothes to this end,
Jewels, love Feasts, and Masques.

Ros.
Ye are monstrous saucie.

Mir.
All this to draw on fools? and thus, thus Lady,
Ye are to be lull'd.

Bel.
Let her alone, I'll swinge ye else,
I will y'faith; for though I cannot skill o'this matter
My self, I will not see another do it before me,
And do it worse.

Ros.
Away, ye are a vain thing;
You have travail'd far Sir, to return again
A windy and poor Bladder: you talk of women,
That are not worth the favour of a common one;
The grace of her grew in an Hospitall:
Against a thousand such blown fooleries
I am able to maintain good womens honours,
Their freedoms, and their fames, and I will do it.

Mir.
She has almost struck me dumb too.

Ros.
And declame
Against your base malicious tongues; your noyses;
For they are nothing else: You teach behaviours?
Or touch us for our freedoms? teach your selves manners,
Truth and sobriety, and live so clearly
That our lives may shine in ye; and then task us:
It seems ye are hot, the suburbs will supply ye,
Good women scorn such Gamesters; so I'll leave ye.
I am sorry to see this; 'faith Sir live fairly.

Exit.
Mir.
This woman, if she hold on, may be vertuous,
'Tis almost possible: we'll have a new day.

Bel.
Ye brought me on, ye forced me to this foolery;
I am sham'd, I am scorn'd, I am flurted; yes, I am so:
Though I cannot talk to a woman like your worship,
And use my phrases, and my learned figures,
Yet I can fight with any man.

Mir.
Fie.

Bel.
I can, Sir,
And I will fight.

Mir.
With whom?

Bel.
With you, with any man;
For all men now will laugh at me.

Mir.
Pre'thee be moderate.

Bel.
And I'll beat all men. Come.

Mir.
I love thee dearly.

Bel.
I beat all that love, Love has undone me;
Never tell me, I will not be a History.

Mir.
Thou art not.

Bel.
'Sfoot I will not; give me room,
And let me see the proudest of ye jeer me,
And I'll begin with you first.

Mir.
'Pre'thee Bellure;
If I do not satisfie thee—

Bel.
Well, look ye do:
But now I think on't better, 'tis impossible;
I must beat some body, I am maul'd my self,
And I ought in Justice—

Mir.
No, no, no, ye are couzen'd;
But walk, and let me talk to thee.

Bel.
Talk wisely,
And see that no man laugh upon no occasion;
For I shall think then 'tis at me.

Mir.
I warrant thee.

Bel.
Nor no more talk of this.

Mir.
Do'st think I am maddish?

Bel.
I must needs fight yet; for I find it concerns me,
A pox on't, I must fight.

Mir.
Y'faith thou shalt not.

Exeunt.