_Char_. Why, theres a hande that aunswers to hys foote! _Fue_. I & a true one toe, or bourne it ells. _Char_. A legge and necke of one cyrcompherence, A waste that is no hygher then hys thye, And all parts ells of stronge proportyon. I am inchaunted with thys vyssyon. _Did_.--In hells name what behould's hys majestie To doate uppon thys rascall! _Fue_. It was a scurvye thynge in nature that she did not tourne mans eies inwarde. Why, had I seene as much as the emperoure I myghte have been a monarke by thys time. I will growe proude. _Char_. O thou the onlye sweetnes of my soule, Give me but leave to touche thee, let my hand (Chast loves most bashful messenger) presume [To stro]ake theise flowers that in thy lovelie [chee]kes Flouryshe like somer garlands. In soothe my soule Loves thee beyond relatyon; for thee I doate And dye in thyne affectyon. Come, Ile make Thee greater then all _Fraunce_, above the peres, The proudest he that breathes shall thynke hym blest To do thee servyce, and esteeme it heaven To be thyne ape in imytatyon. _Fue_. Nowe must I be coy by all meanes.--Trulye for myne owne parte I must love by dyscretyon, and discretyon tells me I ought not to love an oulde man, for ould men must needs be ingratfull. _Char_. Why, deare sweete? _Fue_. Because they can never live to rewarde benefytts. _Tur_.--Bytter knave. _Char_. O doe not feare; my bountye shall exceede The power of thyne askynge; thou shalt treade Uppon the heads of prynces. Bowe, you lords, And fall before thys saynte I reverence. _Tur. Rich. Did_. Honors to hym the emperor doth honor! _Fue_. Aryse, my good subjects; onlye for that roauge there the first acte of my chronickle shalbe hys hanginge. _Did_. O be not angrye with your humble servante: I ever did adore you, _Fue_. Yes like the meales that thou hast devourd halfe chewd for greedynes. But revendge comes nowe gallopinge. _Char_. Who hathe displeasd my dearest? name hys name, The verye breathe shall blast hym; onlye, sweete, Love me & have thy wishes. _Fue_. Well, I am contented to love you; and why? For nothing but because you are an oulde man. _Char_. Why, tys the onlye tye of faythfulines: Age is the onlye object of the harte, And by's experyence onlye hathe aspyrd Toth heyght of all perfectyon. _Fue_. True, for I'll stande too't an oulde man is able to see more, doe more, & comand more then any young man in Chrystendome. _Char_. Prove it, my sweete; thou arte myne advocate. _Fue_. Why, a sees more, through spectackles which make everye thynge apeare bygger than it is; does more, for a never lights from hys horse but hees readye to pull the sadle after hym; and for comandment he may call twentye tymes to hys servant ere he have hys will once performed. _Rich_.--Sfoote, the knave dothe abuse hys hyghnes groslye. _Tur_.--Tut, not at all when't cannot be dyserned. _Char_. Why, I doe nowe doate on thyne excellence. Thys witts unparaleld.