PEN. Heart! I should follow you like a young rank whore, That runs proud of her love; pluck you by the sleeve, Whoe'er were with you, in the open street, With the impudency of a drunken oyster-wife; Put on my fighting waistcoat and the ruff, That fears no tearing; batter down the windows, Where I suspected you might lie all night; Scratch faces, like a wild-cat of Pick'd-hatch.[16] C. FRED. Pendant, thou'lt make me doat upon myself. PEN. Narcissus, by this hand, had far less cause. C. FRED. How know'st thou that? BOY. They were all one, my lord. PEN. How do I know? I speak my conscience: His beauties were but shadows to my lord. Why, boy, his presence would enkindle sin And longing thoughts in a devoted nun. O foot! O leg! O hand! O body! face! By Jove, it is a little man of wax. C. FRED. Thou'rt a rare rascal: 'tis not for nothing That men call thee my Commendations. BOY. For nothing? no; he would be loth it should. _Enter_ CAPTAIN POUTS. C. FRED. Good morrow, and good welcome, Captain Pouts. CAPT. POUTS. _Good morning to your honour, and all joy Spring from this match, and the first year a boy!_ I commanded[17] these two verses o' purpose to salute your honour. C. FRED. But how haps it, Captain, that your intended marriage with my father-in-law's third daughter is not solemnised to-day? PEN. My lord tells you true, Captain; it would have saved meat. CAPT. POUTS. Faith, I know not. Mistress Kate likes me not; she says I speak as if I had pudding in my mouth, and I answered her, if I had, it was a white pudding,[18] and then I was the better armed for a woman; for I had a case about me. So one laughed, and the other cried fie: the third said I was a bawdy captain; and there was all I could get of them. C. FRED. See, boy, if they be up yet: maids are long liers, I perceive. BOY. How if they will not admit me, my lord. C. FRED. Why, should they not admit you, my lord, you cannot commit with 'em, my lord. BOY. Marry, therefore, my lord. [_Exit_ BOY. C. FRED. But what should be the reason of her so sudden alteration? she listened to thee once, ha? PEN. Have you not heard, my lord, or do ye not know? C. FRED. Not I, I swear. PEN. Then you know nothing that is worth the knowing. CAPT. POUTS. That's certain: he knows you. PEN. There's a young merchant, a late suitor, that deals by wholesale, and heir to land, well-descended, of worthy education, beholding to nature. C. FRED. O, 'tis young Strange. CAPT. POUTS. Is't he that looks like an Italian tailor out of the lac'd wheel?[19] that wears a bucket on his head? C. FRED. That is the man: yet believe me, captain, it is a noble sprightly citizen. CAPT. POUTS. Has he money? C. FRED. Infinitely wealthy.