_Nut._ Fie, fie; to-morrow your wedding day, and weep! God's my comfort! Andrugio could do well: Piero may do better. I have had four husbands myself. The first I called, sweet duck; the second, dear heart; the third, pretty pug;[279] but the fourth, most sweet, dear, pretty, all in all; he was the very cockall of a husband. What, lady? your skin is smooth, your blood warm, your cheek fresh, your eye quick: change of pasture makes fat calves; choice of linen clean bodies, and (no question) variety of husbands perfect wives. I would you should know it: as few teeth as I have in my head, I have read _Aristotle's Problems_,[280] which saith that woman receiveth perfection by the man. What then be the men? Go to, to bed, lie on your back, dream not on Piero; I say no more. To-morrow is your wedding: go,[281] dream not of Piero. 16 _Enter_ BALURDO _with a base viol_. _Mar._ What an idle prate thou keep'st, good nurse; go sleep. I have a mighty task of tears to weep. _Bal._ Lady, with a most retort and obtuse leg, I kiss the curlèd locks of your loose hair. 20 The Duke hath sent you the most musical Sir Jeffrey, with his not base, but most ennobled viol, to rock your baby thoughts in the cradle of sleep. _Mar._ I give the noble Duke respective[282] thanks. _Bal._ Respective; truly a very pretty word. Indeed, madam, I have the most respective fiddle; did you ever smell a more sweet sound? My ditty must go thus; very witty, I assure you: I myself in an humorous passion made it, to the tune of my mistress Nutriche's beauty. Indeed, very pretty, very retort, and obtuse, I'll assure you; 'tis thus:-- 31 My mistress' eye doth oil my joints, And makes my fingers nimble: O love, come on, untruss your points, My fiddlestick wants rozen. My lady's duggs are all so smooth, That no flesh must them handle: Her eyes do shine, for to say sooth, Like a new-snuffèd candle. _Mar._ Truly, very pathetical and unvulgar. 40 _Bal._ Pathetical and unvulgar; words of worth, excellent words. In sooth, madam, I have taken a murr,[283] which makes my nose run most pathetically, and unvulgarly. Have you any tobacco? _Mar._ Good Signior, your song. _Bal._ Instantly, most unvulgarly, at your service. Truly, here's the most pathetical rozen. Umh. [_A Song._ _Mar._ In sooth, most knightly sung, and like Sir Jeffrey. _Bal._ Why, look you, lady, I was made a knight only for my voice; and a councillor only for my wit. 51 _Mar._ I believe it. Good night, gentle sir, good night. _Bal._ You will give me leave to take my leave of my mistress, and I will do it most famously in rhyme.