STAINES. Lady, God save you.-- She turns back upon the motion; There's no good to be done by praying for her, I see that; I must plunge into a passion: Now for a piece of Hero and Leander; 'Twere excellent, and (praise be to my memory), It has reach'd half a dozen lines for the purpose: Well, she shall have them-- "One is no number, maids are nothing, then,[203] Without the sweet society of men. Wilt thou live single still? one shalt thou be, Though never singling Hymen couple thee. Wild savages, that drink of running springs, Think water far excels all earthly things: But they that daily taste neat wine, despise it. Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compar'd with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth." No? Why then, have at you in another kind. "By the faith of a soldier, lady, I do reverence the ground that you walk upon. I will fight with him that dares say you are not fair; stab him that will not pledge your health, and with a dagger pierce a vein,[204] to drink a full health to you; but it shall be on this condition, that you shall speak first." Ud's foot! if I could but get her to talk once half my labour were over; but I'll try her in another vein. "What an excellent creature is a woman without a tongue! but what a more excellent creature is a woman that has a tongue, and can hold her peace! but how much more excellent and fortunate a creature is that man that has that woman to his wife!" This cannot choose but mad her; and if anything make a woman talk, 'tis this. It will not do, though, yet. I pray God they have not gulled me. But I'll try once again--"When will that tongue take liberty to talk? Speak but one word, and I'm satisfied: Or do but say but mum, and I am answer'd." No sound? no accent? Is there no noise in women? Nay, then without direction I ha' done. I must go call for help. [_Leaves her._ W. RASH. How! not speak? STAINES. Not a syllable. Night nor sleep is not more silent. She's as dumb as Westminster Hall in the long vacation. W. RASH. Well, and what would you have me do? STAINES. Why, make her speak. W. RASH. And what then? STAINES. Why, let me alone with her. W. RASH. Ay, so you said before; give you but opportunity, and let you alone--you'd desire no more. But come, I'll try my cunning for you; see what I can do. How do you, sister? I am sorry to hear you are not well. This gentleman tells me you have lost your tongue; I pray, let's see. If you can but make signs whereabout you lost it, we'll go and look for't. In good faith, sister, you look very pale; in my conscience, 'tis for grief. Will you have any comfortable drinks sent for? This is not the way [_aside_]; come, walk, seem earnest in discourse, cast not an eye towards her, and you shall see weakness work itself. JOYCE. My heart is swoll'n so big that it must vent, Or it will burst. [_Aside._] Are you a brother?