_Pin._ They are fair enough, but of so strange behaviours. _Mir._ Too strange for me; I must have those have mettle, And mettle to my mind; Come, let's be merry. _Bel._ 'Bless me from this woman: I would stand the Cannon Before ten words of hers. _De-Gar._ Do you find him now? Do you think he will be ever firm? _Or._ I fear not. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Mirabel, Pinac, Belleur. _Mir._ Ne'r tell me of this happiness, 'tis nothing; The state they bring with being sought to scurvey, I had rather make mine own play, and I will do. My happiness is in mine own content, And the despising of such glorious trifles, As I have done a thousand more. For my humour, Give me a good free fellow, that sticks to me, A jovial fair Companion; there's a Beauty: For women, I can have too many of them; Good women too, as the Age reckons 'em, More than I have employment for. _Pin._ You are happy. _Mir._ My only fear is, that I must be forced Against my nature, to conceal my self. Health, and an able Body are two jewels. _Pi._ If either of these two women were offered to me now, I would think otherwise, and do accordingly: Yes, and recant my heresies, I would fain, Sir; And be more tender of opinion, And put a little off my travel'd liberty Out of the way, and look upon 'em seriously. Methinks this grave carried wench. _Bel._ Methinks the other, The home-spoken Gentlewoman, that desires to be fruitful, That treats of the full manage of the matter, For there lies all my aim; that wench, methinks If I were but well set on; for she is a fable, If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me: She speaks to th' matter, and comes home to th' point: Now do I know I have such a body to please her, As all the Kingdom cannot fit her with, I am sure on't, If I could but talk my self into her favour. _Mir._ That's easily done. _Bel._ That's easily said, would 'twere done; You should see then how I would lay about me; If I were vertuous, it would never grieve me, Or any thing that might justifie my modesty, But when my nature is prone to do a charitie, And my calfs-tongue will not help me. _Mir._ Will ye go to 'em? They cannot but take it courteously. _Pi._ I'le do my part, Though I am sure 'twill be the hardest I e're plaid yet, A way I never try'd too, which will stagger me, And if it do not shame me, I am happy. _Mir._ Win 'em, and wear 'em, I give up my interest. _Pi._ What say ye, _Monsieur Bellure_? _Bel._ Would I could say, Or sing, or any thing that were but handsom, I would be with her presently. _Pi._ Yours is no venture; A merry ready wench. _Bel._ A vengeance squibber; She'l fleer me out of faith too.