_Cris._ Nothing. I only said you were all mettle;--that you had a brazen face, a leaden brain, and a copper beard. _Tyse._ Quicksilver,--thou little more than a dwarf, and something less than a woman. _Cris._ A wisp! a wisp! a wisp!--will you go to the banquet? _Tyse._ By the Lord, I think thou wilt marry shortly too; thou growest somewhat foolish already. 31 _Cris._ O, i'faith, 'tis a fair thing to be married, and a necessary. To hear this word _must_! If our husbands be proud, we must bear his contempt; if noisome, we must bear with the goat under his armholes; if a fool, we must bear his bable;[76] and, which is worse, if a loose liver, we must live upon unwholesome reversions; where, on the contrary side, our husbands--because they may, and we must--care not for us. Things hoped with fear, and got with strugglings, are men's high pleasures, when duty palls and flats their appetite. 41 _Tyse._ What a tart monkey is this! By heaven! if thou hadst not so much wit, I could find in my heart to marry thee. Faith, bear with me for all this! _Cris._ Bear with thee? I wonder how thy mother could bear thee ten months in her belly, when I cannot endure thee two hours in mine eye. _Tyse._ Alas, for your sweet soul! By the Lord, you are grown a proud, scurvy, apish, idle, disdainful, scoffing--God's foot! because you have read _Euphues and his England_,[77] _Palmerin de Oliva_,[78] and the _Legend of Lies_![79] 52 _Cris._ Why, i'faith, yet, servant, you of all others should bear with my known unmalicious humours: I have always in my heart given you your due respect. And Heaven may be sworn, I have privately given fair speech of you, and protested---- _Tyse._ Nay, look you; for my own part, if I have not as religiously vow'd my heart to you,--been drunk to your health, swallowed flap-dragons,[80] ate glasses, drunk urine,[81] stabb'd arms,[82] and done all the offices of protested gallantry for your sake; and yet you tell me I have a brazen face, a leaden brain, and a copper beard! Come, yet, and it please you. 64 _Cris._ No, no;--you do not love me. _Tyse._ By ---- but I do now; and whosoever dares say that I do not love you, nay, honour you, and if you would vouchsafe to marry---- _Cris._ Nay, as for that, think on't as you will, but God's my record,--and my sister knows I have taken drink and slept upon't,--that if ever I marry, it shall be you; and I will marry, and yet I hope I do not say it shall be you neither. 73 _Tyse._ By Heaven, I shall be as soon weary of health as of your enjoying!--Will you cast a smooth cheek upon me?