JER. Who, I? s'blood, what should all you see in me, that I should look like a married man, ha? Am I bald? Are my legs too little for my hose? If I feel anything in my forehead, I am a villain. Do I wear a nightcap? do I bend in the hams? what dost thou see in me, that I should be towards marriage, ha? Y. CLARE. What, thou married? let me look upon thee; rogue, who has given this out of thee? how cam'st thou into this ill-name? what company hast thou been in, rascal? FAB. You are the man, sir, must have Millicent, The match is making in the garden now; Her jointure is agreed on, and the old men, Your fathers, mean to launch their busy bags;[264] But in the meantime to thrust Mounchensey off. For colour of this new-intended match, Fair Millicent to Cheston must be sent, To take the approbation for a nun. Ne'er look upon me, lad: the match is done. JER. Raymond Mounchensey, now I touch thy grief With the true feeling of a zealous friend. And as for fair and beauteous Millicent, With my vain breath I will not seek to slubber[265] Her angel-like perfections: but thou know'st That Essex hath the saint that I adore: Where-e'er didst meet me, that we two were jovial, But like a wag thou hast not laugh'd at me, And with regardless jesting mock'd my love? How[266] many a sad and weary summer night My sighs have drunk the dew from off the earth, And I have taught the nightingale to wake, And from the meadows sprung the early lark An hour before she should have list to sing: I have loaded the poor minutes with my moans, That I have made the heavy slow-pac'd hours To hang like heavy clogs upon the day. But, dear Mouncheusey, had not my affection Seiz'd on the beauty of another dame, Before I'd wrong the chase, and leave the love Of one so worthy and so true a friend, I will abjure both beauty and her sight, And will in love become a counterfeit. MOUN. Dear Jerningham, thou hast begot my life, And from the mouth of hell, where now I sat, I feel my spirit rebound against the stars, Thou hast conquer'd me, dear friend, in my free soul, There time nor death can by their power control. FAB. Frank Jerningham, thou art a gallant boy; And were he not my pupil, I would say He were as fine a metall'd gentleman, Of as free spirit and of as fine a temper, As is in England; and he is a man That very richly may deserve thy love. But, noble Clare, this while of our discourse, What may Mounchensey's honour to thyself Exact upon the measure of thy grace?