_L._ I see you have guessed it; yet, perhaps, for thinking Thou shouldst be loyal where thy faith is cherished, Thou hast never weighed her claim with mine; and that 1001 I’d have thee do. Look to thine interest: For loving women differ not so much But all may make good wives; and whatsoe’er Thou thinkest to see in me, Frederick, I am sure I lack all excellence. There’s nothing in me Why I should have preferment o’er another, And least of all of her who can boast loveliness To match her love; and add those other gifts, Which are necessities to one like thee. 1010 Thou, with high friendships shouldst have power and station, And fitted for the fairest use of wealth, Thou art wronged in the want of it: and, Love, I love thee So better than myself, that I would see thee Happily another’s rather than my own With the reproach of selfishness, the knowledge That thou wert sacrificed for my poor love. _F._ If women differ little, what of men? St. Nicholas loves you, and would give you rank. _L._ Thou knowst thou wrongst me, Frederick, turning thus 1020 My love of thee to banter of my love. _F._ I only banter where you dare be grave. _L._ Because thou knowest, Love, I desire not wealth. My happiness would be to live with thee And for thee: but to thee what can I bring? Think not because I wish thee fortunate, That I forget my hope, or slight the treasure So much desirèd of my loving soul. _F._ And for that loving soul you bid me take Some fifty thousand ducats by the year, 1030 A major-domo, and a heap of things That are a proverb for their emptiness! _L._ Diana’s love, I said; that with the ducats. _F._ Well, what doth all this come to when ’tis told? First is Diana’s love. Diana’s love Is nothing, for I do not love Diana. Next are the ducats: fifty thousand ducats. They are nothing either—by the year! Why, Laura, Were’t fifty thousand ducats by the day ’Twere nothing to me. You can little guess 1040 My prodigal soul. I should expend it all And sit at home and be as poor as ever. _L._ How could you spend so much? _F._ Nothing is much. Man’s capabilities being infinite And his state pitiful, the simplest scheme For bettering any faculty he hath, Would eat up all the money in the world. _L._ But to use riches rightly— _F._ I have no desire That earth can satisfy, but one; and that Shall I play false to? _L._ Nay; I trust you well. 1050