_Curio_ Signior _Alphonso_, ye are too rugged to her, Believe too full of harshness. _Alph._ Yes, it seems so. _Seb._ A Father of so sweet a child, so happy, Fye, Sir, so excellent in all endowments, In blessedness of beauty, such a mirror. _Alph._ She is a fool, away. _Seb._ Can ye be angry? Can any wind blow rough, upon a blossom So fair, and tender? Can a Fathers nature, A noble Fathers too? _Alp._ All this is but prating: Let her be rul'd; let her observe my humour, With my eyes let her see; with my ears listen; I am her Father: I begot her, bred her, And I will make her-- _Cur._ No doubt ye may compel her, But what a mischievous, unhappy fortune May wait upon this will of yours, as commonly Such forcings ever end in hates and ruines. _Alph._ Is't not a man I wish her to? a strong man? What can she have? what could she have? a Gentleman? A young man? and an able man? a rich man? A handsome man? a valiant man? do you mark me? None of your pieced-companions, your pin'd-Gallants, That flie to fitters, with every flaw of weather: None of your impt bravadoes: what can she ask more? Is not a metal'd man fit for a woman? A strong chin'd-man? I'le not be fool'd, nor flurted. _Seb._ I grant ye _Roderigo_ is all these, And a brave Gentleman: must it therefore follow Upon necessity she must doat upon him? Will ye allow no liberty in choosing? _Cur._ Alas she is tender yet. _Alp._ Enough, enough, enough, Sir: She is malleable: she'll endure the hammer, And why not that strong workman that strikes deepest? Let me know that! she is fifteen, with the vantage, And if she be not ready now for marriage-- _Seb._ You know he is a banish'd man: an Out-law; And how he lives: his nature rough, and bloody By customary Rapines: now, her sweet humour That is as easie as a calm, and peaceful, All her affections, like the dews on Roses, Fair as the flowers themselves: as sweet and gentle: How would you have these meet? _Alp._ A bed, a bed, Sir: Let her be the fairest Rose, and the sweetest, Yet I know this fair Rose must have her prickles: I grant ye _Roderigo_ is an out-Law. An easie composition calls him in again, He is a valiant man, and he is a rich man, And loves the fool: a little rough by custom: She'l like him ten times better. She'l doat upon him, If ere they come to grapling, run mad for him; But there is another in the wind, some Castrel That hovers over her, and dares her daily, Some flickring slave. _Cur._ I dare not think so poorly. _Alp._ Something there is, and must be: but I shall scent it And hunt it narrowly. _Seb._ I never saw her yet Make offer at the least glance of affection, But still so modest, wise--