_Gond._ Shalt have a Doctor too, thou shalt, 'bout six and twentie, 'tis a pleasing age; Or I can help thee to a handsome Usher: or if thou lack'st a page, I'll give thee one, preethee keep house, and leave me. _Oria._ I doe confess I'm too easie, too much woman, Not coy enough to take affection, Yet I can frown and nip a passion, Even in the bud: I can say Men please their present heats; Then please to leave us. I can hold off, and, by my Chymick power, Draw Sonnets from the melting lovers brain; _Ayme's_, and _Elegies_: yet to you my Lord My Love, my better self, I put these off, Doing that office, not befits our sex, Entreat a man to love; Are ye not yet relenting? ha'ye blood and Spirit In those veins? ye are no image, though ye be as hard As marble: sure ye have no liver, if ye had, 'Twould send a lively and desiring heat To every member; Is not this miserable? A thing so truely form'd, shapt out by Symetry, Has all the organs that belong to man, And working too, yet to shew all these Like dead motions moving upon wyers? Then good my Lord, leave off what you have been, And freely be what you were first intended for, a man. _Gond._ Thou art a precious peece of slie damnation, I will be deaf, I will lock up my ears, Tempt me not, I will not love; If I doe. _Oria._ Then I'll hate you. _Gond._ Let me be 'nointed with hony, and turn'd into the Sun, To be stung to death with horse-flies, Hear'st thou, thou breeder, here I'll sit, And, in despight of thee, I will say nothing. _Oria._ Let me with your fair patience, sit beside you. _Gond._ Madam, Lady, tempter, tongue, woman, ayr. Look to me, I shall kick; I say again, Look to me I shall kick. _Oria._ I cannot think your better knowledg[e] can use a woman so uncivilly. _Gond._ I cannot think, I shall become a coxcombe, To ha'my hair curl'd, by an idle finger, My cheeks turn Tabers, and be plaid upon, Mine eyes lookt babies in, and my nose blowd to my hand, I say again I shall kick, sure I shall. _Oria._ 'Tis but your outside that you shew, I know your mind Never was guilty of so great a weakness, Or could the to[n]gues of all men joyn'd together. Possess me with a thought of your dislike My weakness were above a womans, to fall off From my affection, for one crack of thunder, O wo'd you could love, my Lord.