BOLD. I have had apt breeding, however, my misfortune now makes me submit myself to service; but there is no ebb so low, but hath his tide again. When our days are at worst, they will mend in spite of the frowning destinies, for we cannot be lower than earth; and the same blind dame that hath cast her blear eyes hitherto upon my occasions may turn her wheel, and at last wind them up with her white hand to some pinnacle that prosperously may flourish in the sunshine of promotion. FEE. O mouth, full of agility! I would give twenty marks now to any person that could teach me to convey my tongue (_sans_ stumbling) with such dexterity to such a period. For her truth and her honesty I am bound before, but now I have heard her talk, for her wit I will be bound body and goods. WID. Ud's light, I will not leave her for my hood. I never met with one of these eloquent old gentlewomen before. What age are you, Mistress Mary Princox? BOLD. I will not lie, madam. I have numbered fifty-seven summers, and just so many winters have I passed. SUB. But they have not passed you; they lie frozen in your face. BOLD. Madam, if it shall please you to entertain me, so; if not, I desire you not to misconstrue my goodwill. There's no harm done; the door's as big as it was, and your ladyship's own wishes crown your beauty with content. As for these frumping gallants, let them do their worst. It is not in man's power to hurt me. 'Tis well known I come not to be scoffed. A woman may bear and bear, till her back burst. I am a poor gentlewoman, and since virtue hath nowadays no other companion but poverty, I set the hare's head unto the goose giblets, and what I want one way, I hope I shall be enabled to supply the other. FEE. An't please God, that thou wert not past children. WID. Is't even so, my lord? Nay, good Princox, do not cry. I do entertain you. How do you occupy? What can you use? BOLD. Anything fit to be put into the hands of a gentlewoman. WID. What are your qualities? BOLD. I can sleep on a low stool. If your ladyship be talking in the same room with any gentleman, I can read on a book, sing love-songs, look up at the loover light,[81] hear and be deaf, see and be blind, be ever dumb to your secrets, swear and equivocate, and whatsoever I spy, say the best. WID. O rare crone, how art thou endued! But why did Master Bold's sister put you away? BOLD. I beseech you, madam, to neglect that desire: though I know your ladyship's understanding to be sufficient to partake, or take in, the greatest secret can be imparted, yet---- WID. Nay, prythee, tell the cause. Come, here's none but friends.