_Dick._ Faith in myself, and worth in her, which no proof can undo. _Will._ What seal? _Dick._ My heart deep graven. _Will._ What made the band so fast? _Dick._ Wonder, that by two so black eyes the glittering stars be past. _Will._ What keepeth safe thy band? _Dick._ Remembrance is the chest Lock’d fast with knowing that she is of worldly things the best. _Will._ Thou late of wages ’plainst: what wages mayst thou have? _Dick._ Her heav’nly looks, which more and more do give me cause to crave. _Will._ If wages make you want, what food is that she gives? _Dick._ Tear’s drink, sorrow’s meat, wherewith, not I, but in me my death lives. _Will._ What living get you then? _Dick._ Disdain; but just disdain: So have I cause myself to plain, but no cause to complain. _Will._ What care takes she for thee? {xxxii} _Dick._ Her care is to prevent My freedom with show of her beams, with virtue my content. _Will._ God shield us from such dames. If so our downs be sped The shepherds will grow lean, I trow, their sheep will be ill fed; But, Dick, my counsel mark: run from the place of woe; The arrow being shot from far doth give the smaller blow. _Dick._ Good Will, I cannot lack the good advice, before That foxes leave to steal, because they find they die therefore. _Will._ Then, Dick, let us go hence, lest we great folks annoy; For nothing can more tedious be, than ’plaint in time of joy. _Dick._ Oh, hence! O cruel word! which even dogs do hate; But hence, even hence, I must needs go--such is my dogged fate. To return again to Sir Philip.