_Vir._ Forward, 'tis well, it shall be welcome to me; I have liv'd too long, numbred too many days, Yet never found the benefit of living; Now when I come to reap it with my service, And hunt for that my youth and honor aims at, The Sun sets on my fortune red and bloody, And everlasting night begins to close me, 'Tis time to dye. _Enter_ Martia _and_ Ronvere. _Jul._ She comes her self. _Ron._ Believe Lady, And on this Angel hand, your servant seals it, You shall be Mistriss of your whole desires, And what ye shall command. _Mart._ Ha mynion, My precious Dame, are you there? nay go forward, Make your complaints, and pour out your fain'd pitties, Slave, like to him you serve: I am the same still, And what I purpose, let the world take witness, Shall be so finisht, and to such example, Spite of your poor preventions, my dear Gentleman, My honorable man, are you there too? You and your hot desire? your mercy Sir, I had forgot your greatness. _Jul._ 'Tis not well Lady. _Mart._ Lord, how I hate this fellow now; how desperately My stomach stands against him; this base fellow, This gelded fool! _Jul._ Did you never hear of modesty? _Mart._ Yes, when I heard of you and so believ'd it, Thou bloodless, brainless fool. _Vir._ How? _Mart._ Thou despised fool, Thou only sign of man, how I contemn thee! Thou woven worthy in a piece of Arras, Fit only to enjoy a wall; thou beast Beaten to use; Have I preserv'd a beauty, A youth, a love, to have my wishes blasted? My dotings, and the joys I came to offer, Must they be lost, and sleighted by a dormouse? _J[u]l._ Use more respect; and woman, 'twill become you; At least, less tongue. _Mart._ I'll use all violence, Let him look for't. _Jul._ Dare you stain those beauties, Those heavenly stamps, that raise men up to wonder, With harsh and crooked motions? are you she That overdid all ages, with your honor; And in a little hour dare loose this triumph? Is not this man your husband? _Mart._ He's my halter; Which (having sued my pardon) I fling off thus, And with him all I brought him, but my anger; Which I will nourish to the desolation, Not only of his folly, but his friends, And his whole name. _Vir._ 'Tis well, I have deserved it. And if I were a woman, I would rail too.