_Mac_. Breake up the Court till afternoon: then the 2 _Guzmans_ tryall. _All_. Come, _Englishman_. _Med_. How we honour valour thus our loves epresse: Thou hast a guard of Dukes and Marquesses. [_Exeunt all_. _Actus Quintus_. (SCENE 1.) _Enter Teniente & Henrico_. _Ten_. The Lords are not yett risen: let us walke & talke. Were not you better yeild to marry her Then yeild to suffer death? know you the law? _Hen_. Law! yes; the spiders Cobweb[46], out of which great flyes breake and in which the little are hangd: the Tarriers snaphance[47], limetwiggs, weavers shuttle & blankets in which fooles & wrangling coxcombes are tossd. Doe I know't now or not? _Ten_. If of the rape she accuse you 'tis in her choise To have you marry her or to have you hangd[48]. _Hen_. Hangd, hangd by any meanes! marry her? had I The King of _Spaines_ 7 Kingdomes, _Gallicia, Navarre_, the 2 _Castiles, Leon, Arragon, Valentia, Granada_, And _Portugall_ to make up 8, Ide lose them All to be rid of such a piece of flesh. _Ten_. How? such a piece of flesh? Why, she has limbes Mad out of wax.[49] _Hen_. Then have her to some faire And shew her for money. _Ten_. Is she not sweet complexiond? _Hen_. As most Ladyes are that studye painting. _Ten_. What meate will downe your throat, when you scorne pheasant, partridge, woodcocke & coney? Would I had such a dish. _Hen_. Woodcocke and coney take to you, my _Don Teniente_; Ile none; and because you keepe such a wondering why my stomach goes against the wench (albeit I might find better talke, considering what ladder I stand upon) Ile tell you, signior, what kind of wife I must have or none. _Ten_. Pray let me see her picture. _Hen_. Draw then this curtaine: Give me a wife that's sound of wind and limbe; Whose teeth can tell her age; whose hand nere felt A touch lascivious; whose eyes are balls Not tossd by her to any but to me; Whose breath stinkes not of sweatmeates; whose lippes kisse Onely themselves and mine; whose tongue nere lay At the signe of the _Bell_. She must not be a scold, No, nor a foole to be in love with Bables[50]; No, nor too wise to think I nere saile true But when she steares the rudder. I'de not have Her belly a drum, such as they weave points on, Unles they be taggd with vertue; nor would I have Her white round breasts 2 sucking bottles to nurse Any Bastards at them. _Ten_. I believe you would not.