+Ping.+ Well, and has physic, heats, burial, Nor resurrection, made me yet lean Enough to be thy husband? why, I have Lost as much grease as would furnish A whole city with candles for a twelvemonth And all for the love of thee, sweet Mirida. [_Cries and sobs._ +Mir.+ Dear love, come sit thee in my lap, And let me try if I can enclose thy world Of fat and love within these arms: See, I cannot nigh encompass my Desires by a mile. +Ping.+ How is my fat a rival to my joys! [_Cries._ Sure, I shall weep it all away. +Mir.+ Lie still, my babe, lie still and sleep, It grieves me sore to see thee weep: Wer't thou but leaner, I were glad; Thy fatness makes thy dear love sad. What a lump of love have I in my arms! +Ping.+ Nay, if I had not taken all these courses To dissolve myself into thy embraces, One would think my looking on thee Were enough; for I never see thee but I am like a fat piece of beef roasting At the fire, continually drop, drop, drop. There's ne'er a feature in thy face, or Part about thee, but has cost me many A pint of fat, with thinking on thee; And yet not to be lean enough for Thy husband--O fate! O fate! O fat! [_She lets him fall._ +Mir.+ O Lord, sir, I have let you fall, How shall I do to get you up again! +Ping.+ Nay, that is more than all the world can tell. +Mir.+ I'll e'en lie down by thee then. +Ping.+ Nay, But prythee lie near me; thou hadst As good lie a league off, as that distance. +Mir.+ Were I thy wife, fat love, I would. _+She+ sings._ _My lodging upon the cold floor is, And wonderful hard is my fare, But that which troubles me more, is The fatness of my dear. Yet still I do cry, O, melt, love, And I prythee now melt apace; For thou art the man I should long for, If 'twere not for thy grease._ _+Pinguister+ sings._ _Then prythee don't burden thy heart still, And be deaf to my pitiful moan; Since I do endure the smart still, And for my fat do groan; Then prythee now turn, my dear love, And I prythee now turn to me; For, alas! I am too fat still To roll so far to thee._ +Mir.+ That were not modesty in me to turn To you; but if you can roll to me within This hour, I'll marry you in spite of all Your fat. +Ping.+ Agreed, then I shall gain thee yet; You must lie still then. +Mir.+ Yes, yes.