_Flo._ You cannot, there's no sympathy Between our births, [our] breeding, arts, conditions, And where these are at difference, ther's no liking: This hour it may be I seem handsome to you, And you are taken with variety More than with beauty: to morrow when you have enjoy'd me, Your heat and lust asswag'd, and come to examine Out of a cold and penitent condition What you have done, whom you have shar'd your love with, Made partner of your bed, how it will vex ye, How you will curse the devil that betrayd ye, And what shall become of me then? _Otr._ Wilt thou hear me? _Flo._ As hasty as you were then to enjoy me, As precious as this beauty shew'd unto ye, You'll kick me out of dores, you will whore and ban me: And if I prove with child with your fair issue, Give me a pension of five pound a year To breed your Heir withall, and so good speed me. _Otr._ I'll keep thee like a woman. _Flo._ I'll keep my self Sir, Keep my self honest Sir; there's the brave keeping: If you will marry me. _Otr._ Alass poor _Florimell_. _Flo._ I do confess I am too course and base Sir To be your wife, and it is fit you scorn me, Yet such as I have crown'd the lives of great ones: To be your whore I am sure I am too worthy, (For by my troth Sir, I am truly honest) And that's an honor equal to your greatness. _Otr._ I'll give thee what thou wilt. _Flo._ Tempt me no more then: Give me that peace, and then you give abundance, I know ye do but try me, ye are noble, All these are but to try my modesty, If you should find me easie, and once coming, I see your eyes already how they would fright me; I see your honest heart how it would swell And burst it self into a grief against me: Your tongue in noble anger, now, even now Sir, Ready to rip my loose thoughts to the bottom, And lay my shame unto my self, wide open: You are a noble Lord, you pitty poor maids, The people are mistaken in your courses: You, like a father, try 'em to the uttermost. As they do Gold: you purge the dross from them, And make them shine. _Otr._ This cunning cannot help ye: I love ye to enjoy [ye]: I have stol'n ye To enjoy ye now, not to be fool'd with circumstance, Yield willingly, or else. _Flo._ What? _Otr._ I will force ye. I will not be delay'd, a poor base wench That I, in curtesie, make offer to, Argue with me?