_Abi._ Yes, till I was angry. _Lady._ Angry, why? why wert thou angry? he did doe but well, I did deserve it, he had been a fool, an unfit man for any one to love, had he not laught thus at me: you were angry, that show'd your folly; I shall love him more for that, than all that ere he did before: but said he nothing else? _Abi._ Many uncertain things: he said though you had mockt him, because you were a woman, he could wish to do you so much favour as to see you: yet he said, he knew you rash, and was loth to offend you with the sight of one, whom now he was bound not to leave. _Lady._ What one was that? _Abi._ I know not, but truly I do fear there is a making up there: for I heard the servants, as I past by some, whisper such a thing: and as I came back through the hall, there were two or three Clarks writing great conveyances in hast, which they said were for their Mistris joynture. _Lady._ 'Tis very like, and fit it should be so, for he does think, and reasonably think, that I should keep him with my idle tricks for ever ere he be married. _Abi._ At last he said, it should go hard but he would see you for your satisfaction. _Lady._ All we that are called Women, know as well as men, it were a far more noble thing to grace where we are grace't, and give respect there where we are respected: yet we practise a wilder course, and never bend our eyes on men with pleasure, till they find the way to give us a neglect: then we, too late, perceive the loss of what we might have had, and dote to death. _Enter_ Martha. _Mar._ Sister, yonder's your Servant, with a Gentlewoman with him. _Lady._ Where? _Mar._ Close at the door. _Lady._ Alas I am undone, I fear he is be[t]roth'd, What kind of woman is she? _Mar._ A most ill favoured one, with her Masque on: And how her face should mend the rest I know not. _La._ But yet her mind was of a milder stuff than mine was. _Enter_ Elder Loveless, _and_ Welford _in Womans apparel._ _Lady._ Now I see him, if my heart swell not again (away thou womans pride) so that I cannot speak a gentle word to him, let me not live. _Elder Lo._ By your leave here. _Lady._ How now, what new trick invites you hither? Ha'you a fine device again? _Elder Lo._ Faith this is the finest device I have now: How dost thou sweet heart? _Wel._ Why very well, so long as I may please You my dear Lover. I nor can, nor will Be ill when you are well, well when you are ill. _Elder Lo._ O thy sweet temper! what would I have given, that Lady had been like thee: seest thou her? that face (my love) join'd with thy humble mind, had made a wench indeed. _Wel._ Alas my love, what God hath done, I dare not think to mend. I use no paint, nor any drugs of Art, my hands and face will shew it. _La._ Why what thing have you brought to shew us there? do you take mony for it? _Elder Lo._ A Godlike thing, not to be bought for mony: 'tis my Mistris: in whom there is no passion, nor no scorn: what I will is for law; pray you salute her.