_Cap._ When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;[1105][1106] But for the sunset of my brother's son[1105] It rains downright.[1105][1107] How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?[1107] Evermore showering? In one little body[1108] 130 Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:[1109] For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,[1110] Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; Who raging with thy tears, and they with them,[1111] 135 Without a sudden calm will overset Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife![1112] Have you deliver'd to her our decree?[1113] _La. Cap._ Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.[1114] I would the fool were married to her grave! 140 _Cap._ Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?[1115] Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?[1116] 145 _Jul._ Not proud, you have, but thankful that you have:[1117] Proud can I never be of what I hate;[1118] But thankful even for hate that is meant love.[1119] _Cap._ How, how! how, how! chop-logic! What is this?[1120] 'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'[1121] 150 And yet 'not proud:' mistress minion, you,[1121][1122] Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,[1123] To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 155 Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage![1124][1125] You tallow-face![1124][1126] _La. Cap._ Fie, fie! what, are you mad? _Jul._ Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word. _Cap._ Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch![1127] 160 I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,[1128] Or never after look me in the face: Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest[1129] That God had lent us but this only child,[1130] 165 But now I see this one is one too much And that we have a curse in having her:[1131] Out on her, hilding! _Nurse._ God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.[1132] _Cap._ And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,[1127] 170 Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.[1133] _Nurse._ I speak no treason.[1134] _Cap._ O, God ye god-den.[1127] _Nurse._ May not one speak? _Cap._ Peace, you mumbling fool![1135] Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;[1136] For here we need it not.