Young Chartley. You before, I’ll follow.--He thinks, with his blunt humour, to enter as far as I with my sharp. No, my true Trojan, no: there is a fair, sweet, modest rogue, her name is Luce; with this dandiprat, this pretty little ape’s face, is yon blunt fellow in love; and no marvel, for she hath a brow bewitching, eyes ravishing, and a tongue enchanting; and, indeed, she hath no fault in the world but one, and that is, she is honest; and were it not for that, she were the only sweet rogue in Christendom. As I live, I love her extremely, and to enjoy her would give anything; but the fool stands in her own light, and will do nothing without marriage. But what should I do marrying? I can better endure gyves than bands of matrimony. But in this meditation, I am glad I have won my money again. Nay, and she may be glad of it too; for the girl is but poor, and in my pocket I have laid up a stock for her,--’tis put to use already. And if I meet not with a dice-house or an ordinary by the way, no question but I may increase it to a sum. Well, I’ll unto the Exchange to buy her some pretty novelty: that done, I’ll visit my little rascal, and solicit instantly. [_Exit_. SCENE II.--_Before the_ Goldsmith’s _Shop_. _Enter_ Luce _at work upon a laced handkerchief, and_ Joseph. Luce. Where is my father, Joseph? Joseph. Mistress, above, And prays you to attend below a little. Luce. I do not love to sit thus publicly; And yet upon the traffic of our wares Our provident eyes and presence must still wait. Do you attend the shop, I’ll ply my work. I see my father is not jealous of me, That trusts me to the open view of all. The reason is, he knows my thoughts are chaste, And my care such, as that it needs the awe Of no strict overseer. _Enter_ Boyster. Boyster. Yonder’s Luce.--Save thee! Luce. And you too, sir; you’re welcome; want you aught, I pray, in which our trade may furnish you? Boyster. Yes. Luce. Joseph, show the gentleman-- Boyster. ’Tis here that I would buy. Luce. What do you mean, sir? speak, what is’t you lack? I pray you wherefore do you fix your eyes So firmly in my face? What would you have? Boyster. Thee. Luce. Me! Boyster. Yes, thee. Luce. Your pleasure is to jest, and so I take it. Pray give me leave, sir, to intend[4.06] my work. Boyster. You are fair. Luce. You flout me. Boyster. You are, go to, you are; I’d vex him that should say the contrary. Luce. Well, you may say your pleasure. Boyster. I love thee. Luce. Oh, sir! Boyster. As I live, I do. Luce. Now, as I am a true maid, The most religious oath that I dare swear, I hold myself indebted to your love; And I am sorry there remains in me No power how to requite it. Boyster. Love me; prithee now, do, if thou canst. Luce. I cannot. Boyster. Prithee, if thou canst. Luce. Indeed I cannot.