JANE. I was glad of my release, sir. Suitors call you 'em? I'd keep dish-water continually boiling, but I'd seethe such suitors: I have had much ado to keep 'em from bloodshed. I have seen for all the world a couple of cowardly curs quarrel in that fashion; as the one turns his head, the other snaps behind; and as he turns, his mouth recoils again: but I thank my pains for't, I have leagued with 'em for a week without any further intercourse. BREW. Well, daughter, well; say a third trouble come; say in the person of young Master Foster here came a third suitor: how then? JANE. Three's the woman's total arithmetic: indeed I would learn to number no farther, if there was a good account made of that. ROB. I can instruct you so far, sweet beauty. JANE. Take heed, sir; I have had ill-handsel to-day; perhaps 'tis not the fortunate season; you were best adjourn your journey to some happier time. ROB. There shall no augurism fright my plain dealing: sweet, I fear no hours. JANE. You'll not betray me with love-powder? ROB. Nor with gunpowder neither, i' faith; yet I'll make you yield, if I can. BREW. Go, get you together; your father will be coming; leave me with your suit to him, ply this yourself: and, Jane, use him kindly; he shall be his father's heir, I can tell you. JANE. Never the more for that, father; if I use him kindly, it shall be for something I like in himself, and not for any good he borrows of his father. But come, sir, will you walk into the garden? for that's the field I have best fortune to overcome my suitors in. ROB. I fear not that fate neither; but if I walk into your garden, I shall be tasting your sweets. JANE. Taste sweetly, and welcome, sir; for there grows honesty, I can tell you. ROB. I shall be plucking at your honesty. JANE. By my honesty, but you shall not, sir: I'll hold you a handful of pennyroyal of that; i' faith, if you touch my honesty there, I'll make you eat sorrel to your supper, though I eat sullenwood[85] myself: no, sir, gather first time and sage, and such wholesome herbs, and honesty and heart's-ease will ripen the whilst. ROB. You have fair roses, have you not. JANE. Yes, sir, roses; but no gilliflowers.[86] BREW. Go, go, and rest on Venus' violets: Show her a dozen of bachelor's buttons, boy. [_Exit_ ROBERT _and_ JANE. Here comes his father. _Enter_ OLD MASTER FOSTER _and his_ WIFE. Now, my kind partner, have we good news? O. FOS. Sir, in a word take it: your full lading And venture is return'd at sixtyfold increase. BREW. Heaven take the glory! a wondrous blessing; O, keep us strong against these flowing tides! Man is too weak to bound himself below, When such high waves do mount him.