_Hylas._ I am an Ass I do perceive now, a blind Ass, a Blockhead; For this is handsomness, this that that draws us Body and Bones: Oh what a mounted forehead, What eyes and lips, what every thing about her! How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bears Her silver Breasts! this is the Woman, she, And only she, that I will so much honour As to think worthy of my love, all older Idols I heartily abhor, and give to Gunpowder, And all Complexions besides hers, to Gypsies. _Enter_ Francis _at one door, and_ Cellide _at another_. _Val._ O my dear life, my better heart, all dangers, Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes, Had they been endless like the hours upon me, In this kiss had been buried in oblivion; How happy have ye made me, truly happy! _Cel._ My joy has so much over mastered me, That in my tears for your return-- _Val._ O dearest; My noble friend too! what a Blessedness Have I about me now! how full my wishes Are come again, a thousand hearty welcomes I once more lay upon ye; all I have, The fair and liberal use of all my servants To be at your command, and all the uses Of all within my power. _Fran._ Ye are too munificent, Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, Sir. _Val._ Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service, Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between us And our intire affections but this woman, This I beseech ye friend. _Fran._ It is a jewel, I do confess, would make a Thief, but never Of him that's so much yours, and bound your servant, That were a base ingratitude. _Val._ Ye are noble, 'Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way, Sir, My Cousin and my Sister. _Alice._ Ye are most welcome. _Mary._ If any thing in our poor powers, fair Sir, To render ye content, and liberal welcome May but appear, command it. _Alice._ Ye shall find us Happy in our performance. _Fran._ The poor Servant Of both your goodnesses presents his service. _Val._ Come, no more Complement; Custom has made it Dull, old, and tedious; ye are once more welcome As your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever. And so we'll in to ratifie it. _Hyl._ Hark ye, _Valentine_: Is wild Oats yet come over? _Val._ Yes, with me, Sir. _Mary._ How does he bear himself? _Val._ A great deal better; Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well. _Mary._ I should be glad on't, Sir. _Val._ How does his father? _Hyl._ As mad a worm as e'er he was. _Val._ I lookt for't: Shall we enjoy your Company? _Hyl._ I'll wait on ye: Only a thought or two. _Val._ We bar all prayers. [_Exeunt all but_ Hylas.