_Lav._ Thou art a pretty boy. _Ver._ And you a brave man: now I am out of your debt. _Lav._ Nay, prethee stay. _Ver._ I am in haste, Sir. _Lav._ By the faith of a Courtier. _Ver._ Take heed what you say, you have taken a strange oath. _Lav._ I have not seen a youth that hath pleased me better; I would thou couldst li[k]e me, so far as to leave thy Lady and wait on me, I would maintain thee in the bravest cloaths. _Ver._ Though you took them up on trust, or bought 'em at the Brokers. _Lav._ Or any way: then thy imployments should be so neat and cleanly, thou shouldst not touch a pair of pantables in a month, and thy lodging-- _Ver._ Should be in a brothel. _Lav._ No, but in mine arms. _Ver._ That may be the circle of a Bawdy-house, or worse. _Lav._ I mean thou should'st lye with me. _Ver._ Lie with you? I had rather lye with my Ladies Monkey; 'twas never a good world, since our French Lords learned of the _Neapolitans_, to make their Pages their Bed-fellows, doth more hurt to the Suburb Ladies, than twenty dead vacations; 'Tis supper time, Sir. [_Exit_ Veram. _Lav._ I thought so, I know by that 'tis a woman, for because, peradventure she hath made trial of the Monkey, she prefers him before me, as one unknown; well, these are standing creatures, and have strange desires; and men must use strange means to quenc[h] strange fires. [_Exit._ _Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Montague _alone in mean habit_. _Mont._ Now _Montague_, who discerns thy spirit now? Thy breeding, or thy bloud? here's a poor cloud Eclipseth all thy splendor; who can read In thy pale face, dead eye, or _lenten shute_, The liberty thy ever-giving hand Hath bought for others, manacling it self In gyves of parchment indissoluble? The greatest hearted man supplyed with means, Nobility of birth and gentlest parts, I thought the right hand of his Sovereign, If virtue quit her seat in his high soul, Glitters but like a Palace set on fire, Whose glory whilst it shines, but ruins him, And his bright show each hour to ashes tending Shall at the last be rak'd up like a sparkle, Unless mens lives and fortunes feed the flame. Not for my own wants, though blame I my Stars, But suffering others to cast love on me, When I can neither take, nor thankful be. My Ladies woman, fair and virtuous Young as the present month, sollicites me For love and marriage now being nothing worth-- _Enter_ Veramour.