_Fra._ Why, how strange for _Gods_ sake? He is a man, and one that may content (For any thing I see) a right good woman: And sure I am not blind. _Clor._ There lyes the question? For, (but you say he is a man, and I Will credit you,) I should as soon have thought him Another of _Gods_ creatures; out upon him, His body, that can promise nothing But laziness and long strides. _Fra._ These are your eyes; Where were they _Clora_, when you fell in love With the old foot-man, for singing of Queen _Dido_? And swore he look'd in his old velvet trunks And his slic't _Spanish_ Jerkin, like _Don John_? You had a parlous judgment then, my _Clora_. _Clora._ Who told you that? _Fran._ I heard it. _Clora._ Come, be friends, The Souldier is a _Mars_, no more, we are all Subject to slide away. _Fra._ Nay, laugh on still. _Clor._ No faith, thou art a good wench, and 'tis pity Thou shouldst not be well quarried at thy entring, Thou art so high flown for him: Look, who's there? _Enter_ Fabricio, _and_ Jacomo. _Jac._ Prethee go single, what should I do there? Thou knowst I hate these visitations, As I hate peace or perry. _Fab._ Wilt thou never Make a right man? _Jac._ You make a right fool of me To lead me up and down to visit women, And be abus'd and laugh'd at; let me sta[rv]e If I know what to say, unless I ask 'em What their shooes cost? _Fab._ Fye upon thee, coward, Canst thou not sing? _Jac._ Thou knowest I can sing nothing But _Plumpton_ park. _Fab._ Thou't be bold enough, When thou art enter'd once. _Jac._ I had rather enter A breach: if I miscarry, by this hand I will have you by th' ears for't. _Fab._ Save ye Ladies. _Clo._ Sweet Brother I dare swear, you're welcom hither, So is your Friend. _Fab._ Come, blush not, but salute 'em. _Fra._ Good Sir believe your Sister; you are most welcom, So is this worthy Gentleman whose vertues I shall be proud to be acquainted with. _Jac._ She has found me out already, and has paid me; Shall we be going? _Fab._ Peace; Your goodness Lady Will ever be afore us, for my self I will not thank you single, lest I leave My friend, this Gentleman, out of acquaintance. _Jac._ More of me yet? _Fra._ Would I were able, Sir, From either of your worths to merit thanks. _Clor._ But Brother, is your friend thus sad still? methinks 'Tis an unseemly nature in a Souldier. _Jac._ What hath she to do with me, or my behaviour? _Fab._ He do's but shew so, prethee to him Sister. _Jac._ If I do not break thy head, I am no Christian, If I get off once. _Clor._ Sir, we must intreat you To think your self more welcom, and be merry, 'Tis pity a fair man of your proportion Should have a soul of sorrow.