_Lil._ But brown must not be cast away, Sir; if young _Lelia_ Had kept her self till this day from a Husband, Why what a Beauty, Sir! you know _Ismena_ The fair Jem of Saint _Germans_? _Pi._ By my troth I do not. _Lil._ And then I know you must hear of _Brisac_, How unlike a Gentleman-- _Pi._ As I live I have heard nothing. _Lil._ Strike me another Galliard. _Pi._ By this light I cannot; In troth I have sprain'd my leg, Madam. _Lil._ Now sit ye down, Sir, And tell me why ye came hither, why ye chose me out? What is your business? your errant? dispatch, dispatch! 'May be ye are some Gentlemans man, and I mistook ye, That have brought me a Letter, or a haunch of Venison, Sent me from some friend of mine. _Pi._ Do I look like a Carrier? You might allow me what I am, a Gentleman. _Lil._ Cry 'ye mercie, Sir, I saw ye yesterday, You are new come out of Travel, I mistook ye; And how do all our impudent friends in _Italie_? _Pi._ Madam, I came with duty, and fair courtesie, Service, and honour to ye. _Lil._ Ye came to jear me: Ye see I am merry, Sir, I have chang'd my copy: None of the Sages now, and 'pray ye proclaim it, Fling on me what aspersion you shall please, Sir, Of wantonness, or wildness, I look for it; And tell the world I am an hypocrite, Mask in a forc'd and borrow'd shape, I expect it; But not to have you believ'd; for mark ye, Sir, I have won a nobler estimation, A stronger tie by my discretion Upon opinion (how e're you think I forced it) Than either tongue or art of yours can slubber, And when I please I will be what I please, Sir, So I exceed not Mean; and none shall brand it Either with scorn or shame, but shall be slighted. _Pi._ Lady, I come to love ye. _Lil._ Love your self, Sir, And when I want observers, I'll send for ye: Heigh, ho; my fit's almost off, for we do all by fits, Sir: If ye be weary, sit till I come again to ye. [_Exit._ _Pi._ This is a wench of a dainty spirit; but hang me if I know yet Either what to think, or make of her; she had her will of me, And baited me abundantly, I thank her, And I confess I never was so blur[t]ed, Nor ever so abus'd; I must bear mine own sins; Ye talk of Travels, here's a curious Country, Yet I will find her out, or forswear my facultie. [_Exit._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Rosalura, _and_ Oriana. _Ros._ Ne'r vex your self, nor grieve; ye are a fool then. _Or._ I am sure I am made so: yet before I suffer Thus like a girl, and give him leave to triumph--