Y. LORD W. Yes, faith, that I have, and, the last week too, three days and a night together. REB. About what, I pray? Y. LORD W. Only to find out why a woman, going on the right side of her husband in the daytime, should lie on his left side at night; and, as I am a lord, I never knew the meaning on't till yesterday. Malapert, my father's butler, being a witty jackanapes, told me why it was. REB. By'r Lady, my lord, 'twas a shrewd study, and I fear hath altered the property of your good parts; for, I'll assure you, I loved you a fortnight ago far better. Y. LORD W. Nay, 'tis all one, whether you do or no: 'tis but a little more trouble to bring ye about again; and no question, but a man may do't, I am he. 'Tis true, as your father said, the black ox hath not trod upon that foot of yours. REB. No, but the white calf hath; and so I leave your lordship. [_Exit_ REBECCA. Y. LORD W. Well, go thy ways, th' art as witty a marmalade-eater as ever I conversed with. Now, as I am a lord, I love her better and better; I'll home and poetise upon her good parts presently. Peter, here's a preparative to my farther applications; and, Peter, be circumspect in giving me diligent notice what suitors seem to be peeping. P. SER. I'll warrant you, my lord, she's your own; for I'll give out to all that come near her that she is betrothed to you; and if the worst come to the worst, I'll swear it. Y. LORD W. Why, godamercy; And if ever I do gain my request, Thou shalt in braver clothes be shortly dress'd. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ OLD LORD WEALTHY, _solus_. Have the fates then conspir'd, and quite bereft My drooping years of all the bless'd content That age partakes of, by the sweet aspect Of their well-nurtur'd issue; whose obedience, Discreet and duteous 'haviour, only lengthens The thread of age; when on the contrary, By rude demeanour and their headstrong wills, That thread's soon ravell'd out. O, why, Maria, Couldst thou abandon me now at this time, When my grey head's declining to the grave? Could any masculine flatterer on earth So far bewitch thee to forget thyself, As now to leave me? did nature solely give thee me, As my chief, inestimable treasure, Whereby my age might pass in quiet to rest; And art thou prov'd to be the only curse, Which heav'n could throw upon mortality? Yet I'll not curse thee, though I fear the fates Will on thy head inflict some punishment, Which I will daily pray they may withhold. Although thy disobediency deserves Extremest rigour, yet I wish to thee Content in love, full of tranquillity. _Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY. But see where stands my shame, whose indiscretion Doth seem to bury all the living honours Of all our ancestors; but 'tis the fates' decree, That men might know their weak mortality. Y. LORD W. Sir, I cannot find my sister.