_Gab._ Could all your subtilties and sighs betray me. The vows ye shook me with, the tears ye drown'd me, Till I came fairly off with honor'd Marriage? Oh fie, my Lord. _Lav._ Prethee good _Gabriella_. _Gab._ Would I had never known ye, nor your honors, They are stuck too full of griefs: oh happy women, That plant your Love in equal honest bosoms, Whose sweet desires like Roses set together, Make one another happy in their blushes, Growing and dying without sense of greatness, To which I am a slave! [and] that blest Sacrament That daily makes millions of happy mothers, link'd me To this man's Lust alone, there left me. I dare not say I am his wife, 'tis dangerous: His Love, I cannot say: alas, how many? _Lav._ You grow too warm; pray [ye be] content, you best know, The times necessity, and how our marriage Being so much unequal to mine honor, While the Duke lives, I standing high in favour; And whilst I keep that safe, next to the Dukedom, Must not be known, without my utter ruine. Have patience for a while, and do but dream wench, The glory of a Dutchess. How she tires me! How dull and leaden is my appetite To that stale beauty now! oh, I could curse And crucifie my self for childish doating Upon a face that feeds not with fresh Figures Every fresh hour: she is now a surfet to me. _Enter_ Gentille. Who's that? _Gentille?_ I charge ye, no acquaintance You nor your Maid with him, nor no discourse Till times are riper. _Gent._ Fie, my Noble Lord, Can you be now a stranger to the Court, When your most virtuous Bride, the beauteous _Hellena_ Stands ready like a Star to gild your happiness, When _Hymens_ lusty fires are now a lighting, And all the Flower of _Anjou_? _Lav._ Some few trifles, For matter of adornment, have a little Made me so slow, _Gentille_, which now in readiness, I am for Court immediately. _Gent._ Take heed, Sir, This is no time for trifling, nor she no Lady To be now entertain'd with toys: 'twill cost ye-- _Lav._ Y'are an old Cock, _Gentille_. _Gent._ By your Lordships favour. _Lav._ Prethee away; 'twill lose time. _Gent._ Oh my Lord, Pardon me that by all means. _Lav._ We have business A-foot man, of more moment. _Gent._ Then my manners? I know none, nor I seek none. _Lav._ Take to morrow. _Gent._ Even now, by your Lordships leave. Excellent Beauty. My service here I ever dedicate, In honor of my best friend, your dead Father, To you his living virtue, and wish heartily, That firm affection that made us two happy, May take as deep undying root, and flourish Betwixt my Daughter _Casta_, and your goodness, Who shall be still your servant. _Gab._ I much thank ye. _Lav._ ---- [o'] this dreaming puppy. Will ye go, Sir?