_Bacha._ I do believe you, and your self too: Lord what a fine old _Zany_ my Love has made him! 'Is mine, I am sure: Heaven make me thankful for him. [_Leon._] Tell me how old thou art, my pretty sweet heart? _Timantus._ Your Grace will not buy her, she may trip Sir? _Bacha._ My sorrow showes me elder then I am by many years. _Leon._ Thou art so witty I must kiss agen. _Tima._ Indeed her Age lyes not in her mouth: nere look it there Sir, she has a better Register, if it be not burnt. _Leon._ I will kiss thee, I am a fire _Timantus_. _Tima._ Can you chuse Sir, having such heavenly fire before you? _Leon._ Widow, guess why I come, I prethee do. _Bacha._ I cannot Sir, unless you be pleas'd to make a mirth out of my rudeness: and that I hope your pity will not let ye, the subject is so Barren: Bite King, Bite, I'll let you play a while. _Leon._ Now as I am an honest man, I'll tell thee truely, how many foot did I Jump yesterday _Timantus_? _Tim._ Fourteen of your own, and some three fingers. _Bacha._ This fellow lyes as lightly, as if hee were in cut Taffata. Alas good Almanack get thee to Bed, and tell what weather we shall have to morrow. _Leon._ Widow I am come in short to be a Suiter. _Bacha._ For whom? _Leon._ Why by my troth, I come to wooe thee wench: And win thee for my self: Nay, look upon me: I have about me that will do it. _Bac._ Now Heaven defend me, your Whore [you] shall never: I thank the Gods, I have a little left me to keep me warm, and honest: if your grace take not that, I seek no more. _Leon._ I am so far from taking any thing, I'll add unto thee. _Bach._ Such Additions may be for your ease Sir, Not my honestie: I am well in being single, good Sir seek another, I am no meat for money. _Leon._ Shall I fight for thee? This sword shall cut his throat, that dars lay claim But to a Finger of thee, but to a look, I would See such a fellow. _Bac._ It would be but a cold sight to you: This is the father of _S. George_ a foot-back, Can such dry mumming talk. _Tim._ Before the gods, your grace lookes like _Æneas_. _Bac._ He looks like his old father upon his back, Crying to get Aboord. _Leon._ How shall I win thy love, I pray thee tell me? I'll marry thee if thou desirest that: That is an honest Course, I am in good earnest, and presently within this hour, [I] am mad for thee: prethee deny me not, For as I live I'll pine thee, but I'll have thee. _Bacha._ Now he's in the Toyl, I'll hold him fast. _Tima._ You do not know what 'tis to be a Queen, Go too you Maid, else what the old man falls short of, there's others can eech out, when you please to call on 'em.