_Serl._ I cannot trick it up with poesies, Nor paint my passions with comparisons, Nor tell a tale of Phœbus and his loves: But this believe me,--Laxfield here is mine, Of ancient rent seven-hundred pounds a year; And if thou canst but love a country squire, I will enfeoff thee, Margaret, in all: I cannot flatter; try me, if thou please. _Mar._ Brave neighbouring squires, the stay of Suffolk's clime, A keeper's daughter is too base in gree To match with men accounted of such worth: But might I not displease, I would reply. _Lam._ Say, Peggy; naught shall make us discontent. _Mar._ Then, gentles, note that love hath little stay, Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire Be kindled but by fancy's motion: Then pardon, gentles, if a maid's reply Be doubtful, while I have debated with myself, Who, or of whom, love shall constrain me like. _Serl._ Let it be me; and trust me, Margaret, The meads environ'd with the silver streams, Whose battling pastures fatten all my flocks, Yielding forth fleeces stapled with such wool, As Lemnster cannot yield more finer stuff, And forty kine with fair and burnish'd heads, With strouting[220] dugs that paggle to the ground, Shall serve thy dairy, if thou wed with me. _Lam._ Let pass the country wealth, as flocks and kine, And lands that wave with Ceres' golden sheaves, Filling my barns with plenty of the fields; But, Peggy, if thou wed thyself to me, Thou shalt have garments of embroider'd silk, Lawns, and rich net-works for thy head-attire: Costly shall be thy fair habiliments, If thou wilt be but Lambert's loving wife. _Mar._ Content you, gentles, you have proffer'd fair, And more than fits a country maid's degree: But give me leave to counsel me a time, For fancy blooms not at the first assault; Give me but ten days' respite, and I will reply, Which or to whom myself affectionates. _Serl._ Lambert, I tell thee thou'rt importunate; Such beauty fits not such a base esquire: It is for Serlsby to have Margaret. _Lam._ Think'st thou with wealth to overreach me? Serlsby, I scorn to brook thy country braves: I dare thee, coward, to maintain this wrong, At dint of rapier, single in the field. _Serl._ I'll answer, Lambert, what I have avouch'd.-- Margaret, farewell; another time shall serve. [_Exit._ _Lam._ I'll follow--Peggy, farewell to thyself; Listen how well I'll answer for thy love. [_Exit._