STRANGE. I thank thee, heaven, for my success in this. To what perfection, is my business grown! Seldom or never is right overthrown. [_Exit with_ CAPTAIN POUTS _on his back_. _Enter_ PENDANT, _and_ MISTRESS WAGTAIL _with work, sewing a purse_. PEN. They say every woman has a springe to catch a woodcock: remember my instructions, and let me see what a paradise thou canst bring this fool into. Fifteen hundred a year, wench, will make us all merry; but a fool to boot! why, we shall throw the house out at window. Let me see, there are two things in this foolish, transitory world which should be altogether regarded: profit and pleasure, or pleasure and profit--I know not which to place first, for indeed they are twins, and were born together. For profit, this marriage (God speed it!) marries you to it; and for pleasure, if I help you not to that as cheap as any man in England, call me cut.[54] And so remember my instructions, for I'll go fetch Sir Abraham. [_Exit._ WAG. Your instructions! Nay, faith, you shall see I have as fruitful a brain as a belly: you shall hear some additions of my own. My fantasy even kicks like my bastard: well, boy, for I know thou art masculine, neither thy father nor thy mother had any feminine quality but one, and that was to take a good thing when it was proffered. When thou inherit'st land, strange both to thy father and grandfather, and rid'st in a coach, it may be thy father, an old footman, will be running by thy side. But yonder comes the gentle knight and my squire. _Enter SIR ABRAHAM and PENDANT stealing.[55]_ WAG. Unfortunate damsel! why dost thou love Where thou hast sworn it never to reveal? Maybe he would vouchsafe to look on thee. Because he is a knight, is it thy terror? Why, peradventure, he is Knighthood's Mirror[56]. PEN. D'ye hear, Sir Abraham? ABRA. Yes, with standing tears. WAG. Bevis[57] on Arundel, with Morglay in hand, Near to my knight in prowess doth not stand. They say Sir Bevis slew both boar and dragon, My knight for that can drink up a whole flagon, A thing as famous now amongst our men, As killing monsters was accounted then. 'Tis not thy leg, no, were it twice as good, Throws me into this melancholy mood; Yet let me say and swear, in a cross-garter Paul's never show'd to eyes a lovelier quarter. ABRA. Ay, but all this while she does not name me: she may mean somebody else. PEN. Mean somebody else! you shall hear her name you by and by. WAG. Courteous Sir Abraham. PEN. La ye there!