BAR. What a strange kind of pageant have we seen? EUPH. Barnet, I cannot tell whether such strange Unsatiable desires in these old folks, That are half earth already, should be thought More impious or more ridiculous. BAR. They are both alike. EUPH. But such a monstrous Unnatural plot as his, to apprehend His kinsman, I ne'er heard of! If I knew Where Eugeny remain'd, though 'twere his fortune To kill a friend of mine, I'd rescue him From this unnatural and wolfish man. BAR. That would betray his life to satisfy His avarice, not justice of the law. _Enter_ DOTTEREL, LADY WHIMSEY. Here comes another piece of matrimony, That may be shortly. EUPH. 'Tis better far than t'other: They are the last couple in hell. DOT. Save you, gallants! BAR. You are the gallant, sir, that on your arm Do wear the trophies of a conquer'd lady. EUPH. Madam, I had almost mistaken my salutation, And bid God give you joy. LADY W. Of what, I prythee? EUPH. Of this young gallant, call him by what name Or title you are pleas'd, husband or servant. BAR. He may be both, sir: he is not the first Has been a husband and a servant too. DOT. I am her servant, sir: and I confess Have an ambition, and so forth. LADY W. How now, servant! EUPH. I tell you truly, madam, 'tis reported (And those reports are fatal still, you know) That Master Dotterel and you are purpos'd To bear the old knight and lady company To-morrow to the church. LADY W. That I confess, and so will you, I think. EUPH. Nay, but to do As they do, madam--tie the lasting knot. LADY W. Do you hear, servant? This it is to have So proper a servant: every one supposes I must needs be in love. DOT. I would you were As deep in Cupid's books as I. EUPH. That is In Cupid's favour: you are a happy man. LADY W. My servant has been searching Cupid's books, I think, to find that sonnet that he gave me. Are you content that I should show your poetry? DOT. Do, mistress, I am not asham'd on't; But you shall give me leave to read it to 'em. 'Tis but a sonnet, gentlemen, that I fitted To my fair mistress here. EUPH. Let us be happy To hear it, sir. DOT. Take it as it is-- [_He reads._ _Dear, do not your fair beauty wrong;_ _In thinking still you are too young._ EUPH. How! too young? BAR. Let him alone; I know the song. DOT. _The rose and lilies in your cheek_ _Flourish, and no more ripeness seek;_ _Your cherry lip, red, soft and sweet,_ _Proclaims such fruit for taste most meet:_ _Then lose no time, for love has wings,_ _And flies away from aged things._ How do you like it, gentlemen? EUPH. Very well. The song's a good one.