+Moc.+ Marry, sir, this. You brought me once into a paradise of pleasure and expectation of much comfort; my request therefore is, that you would no longer defer what then you so liberally promised. +Lor.+ How do you mean? +Moc.+ Why, sir, in joining that beauteous lady, your daughter, and myself in the firm bonds of matrimony; for I am somewhat impatient of delay in this kind, and indeed the height of my blood requires it. +Luc.+ Are you so hot? I shall give you a card to cool you[358] presently. [_Aside._ +Lor.+ 'Tis an honest and a virtuous demand, and on all sides an action of great consequence; and, for my part, there's not a thing in the world I could wish sooner accomplished. +Moc.+ Thank you, sir. +Lor.+ There's another branch of policy, besides the coupling of you together, which springs from the fruitfulness of my brain, that I as much labour to bring to perfection as the other. +Moc.+ What's that, sir? +Lor.+ A device upon the same occasion, but with a different respect; 'tis to be imposed upon Petrucio. I hate to differ so much from the nature of an Italian, as not to be revengeful; and the occasion at this time was, he scorned the love of her, that you now so studiously affect; but I'll fit him in his kind. +Moc.+ Did he so? He deserves to have both his eyes struck as blind as Cupid's, his master, that should have taught him better manners. But how will you do it? +Lor.+ There's one Lionel, an ingenious witty gentleman. +Æmi.+ Ay, that he is, as ever breathed, husband, upon my knowledge. +Lor.+ Well, he is so, and we two have cast to requite it upon him. The plot, as he informs me, is already in agitation, and afterwards, sans delay, I'll bestow her upon you. +Luc.+ But you may be deceived. [_Aside._ +Moc.+ Still you engage me more and more your debtor. +Lor.+ If I can bring both these to success, as they are happily intended, I may sit down, and, with the poet, cry, _Jamque opus exegi._ +Moc.+ Would I could say so too; I wish as much, but 'tis you must confirm it, fair mistress: one bare word of your consent, and 'tis done. The sweetness of your looks encourage me, that you will join pity with your beauty; there shall be nothing wanting in me to demerit it; and then, I hope, although I am base, Base in respect of you divine and pure, Dutiful service may your love procure. +Lor.+ How now, Signor! What, love and poetry, have they two found you out? Nay, then you must conquer. Consider this, daughter; show thy obedience to Phœbus and god Cupid: make an humble professor of thyself; 'twill be the more acceptable, and advance thy deserts. +Æmi.+ Do, chicken, speak the word, and make him happy in a minute.