_Leoc._ How can she then delight in him? dare she think? Be what she will, as excellent as Angels My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent That I must take her prewnings; sto[o]p at that She has tyr'd upon; No Sir, I hold my beauty Wash but these sorrows from it, of a sparkle As right and rich as hers, my means as equal, My youth as much unblown; and for our worths And weight of virtue-- _Theo._ Do not task her so far. _Leo._ By heaven she is cork, and clouds, light, light Sir, vapor But I shall find her out, with all her witchcrafts, Her paintings, and her powncings: for 'tis art And only art preserves her, and meer spels That work upon his powers; let her but shew me A ruin'd cheek like mine, that holds his colour And writes but sixteen years in spight of sorrows An unbathed body, smiles, that give but shaddows, And wrinkle not the face; besides she is little, A demy dame, that makes no object. _Theo._ Nay. Then I must say you err; for credit me I think she is taller than your self. _Leoc._ Why let her It is not that shall mate me; I but ask My hands may reach unto her. _Theo._ Gentle Lady 'Tis now ill time of farther argument, For I perceive your anger voyd of counsel, Which I could wish more temperate. _Leoc._ Pray forgive me If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on See more than we that play: and I beseech ye Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments, If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses You must confess are seldom ty'd to patience, Yet I could wish I had said less. _Theo._ No harm then; Ye have made a full amends; our company You may command, so please you in your travels With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so. _Leoc._ Ye make too great an offer. _Theo._ Then it shall be. Go in and rest your self, our wholsome dyet Will be made ready straight: But heark ye Lady One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance That these things may be open to my Brother For more respect and honor. _Leoc._ Do your pleasure. _Theo._ And do not change this habit by no means Unless ye change your self. _Leoc._ Which must not yet be. _Theo._ It carries ye concealed and safe. _Leoc._ I am counsell'd. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Philippo. _Phil._ What's done? _Theo._ Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman, And of a noble strain too, ghess. _Phil._ I cannot. _Theo._ You have heard often of her. _Phil._ Stay I think not. _Theo._ Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair _Leocadia_ Daughter unto Don _Zanchio_, our noble neighbor. _Phil._ Nay? _Theo._ 'Tis she Sir, o' my credit. _Phil. Leocadia_, Pish _Leocadia_, it must not be. _Theo._ It must be, or be nothing. _Phil._ Pray give me leave to wonder, _Leocadia_?