_Ros._ By this gold, I had rather have a servant with a short nose, and a thin hair, than have such a high-stretch'd minikin[168] voice. _Pier._ Fair niece, your reason? _Ros._ By the sweet of love, I should fear extremely that he were an eunuch. _Cast._ Spark spirit, how like you his voice? _Ros._ Spark spirit, how like you his voice! 110 So help me, youth, thy voice squeaks like a dry corkshoe:[169] come, come; let's hear the next. _Second Boy sings._ _Pier._ Trust me, a strong mean. Well sung, my boy. _Enter_ BALRUDO. _Bal._ Hold, hold, hold: are ye blind? could ye not see my voice coming for the harp? And I knock not division[170] on the head, take hence the harp, make me a slip,[171] and let me go but for ninepence. Sir Mark, strike up for master Balurdo. _Third Boy sings._ Judgment, gentlemen, judgment! Was't not above line? I appeal to your mouths that heard my song. 120 Do[172] me right, and dub me knight, Balurdo. _Ros._ Kneel down, and I'll dub thee knight of the golden harp. _Bal._ Indeed, law, do, and I'll make you lady of the silver fiddlestick. _Ros._ Come, kneel, kneel. _Enter a Page to_ BALURDO. _Bal._ My troth, I thank you, it hath never a whistle in't. _Ros._ Nay, good sweet coz, raise up your drooping eyes; and I were at the point of _To have and to hold from this day forward_, I would be asham'd to look thus lumpish. What, my pretty coz, 'tis but the loss of an odd maidenhead. 133 Shall's dance? thou art so sad, hark in thine[173] ear: I was about to say, but I'll forbear. _Bal._ I come, I come; more than most honeysuckle sweet ladies, pine not for my presence, I'll return in pomp. Well spoke, Sir Jeffrey Balurdo. As I am a true knight, I feel honourable eloquence begin to grope me already. [_Exit._ 140 _Pier._ Faith, mad niece, I wonder when thou wilt marry? _Ros._ Faith, kind uncle, when men abandon jealousy, forsake taking of tobacco, and cease to wear their beards so rudely long. O, to have a husband with a mouth continually smoking, with a bush of furze on the ridge of his chin, ready still to flop into his foaming chaps; ah, 'tis more than most intolerable. _Pier._ Nay faith, sweet niece, I was mighty strong in thought we should have shut up night with an old comedy: the Prince of Florence[174] shall have Mellida, and thou should'st have----. 152