Young Chartley. What a pagan am I, to practise such villainy against this honest Christian! If Gratiana did not come into my thoughts, I should fall into a vein to pity her. But now that I talk of her, I have a tongue to woo her, tokens to win her; and that done, if I do not find a trick both to wear her and weary her, it may prove a piece of a wonder.--Thou seest, Luce, I have some store of crowns about me: there are brave things to be bought in the city; Cheapside and the Exchange afford variety and rarity. This is all I will say now, but thou mayst hear more of me hereafter. [_Exit_. Luce. Heaven speed you where you go, sir! Shall we in? Though not from scandal, we live free from sin. Luce’s Father. I’ll in before. [_Exit_. _Enter_ Boyster. Boyster. I am still in love with Luce, and I would know An answer more directly. Fie, fie! this love Hangs on me like an ague, makes me turn fool, Coxcomb, and ass. Why should I love her, why? A rattle-baby, puppet, a slight toy. And now I could go to buffets with myself, And cuff this love away. But see, that’s Luce. Luce. I cannot shun him, but I’ll shake him oft. Boyster. Morrow. Luce. As much to you. Boyster. I’ll use few words--canst love me? Luce. ’Deed, sir, no. Boyster. Why, then, farewell; the way I came, I’ll go. [_Exit_. Luce. This is no tedious courtship; he’s soon answered; So should all suitors else be, were they wise; For, being repulsed, they do but waste their days In thankless suits, and superficial praise. _Re-enter_ Boyster. Boyster. Swear that thou wilt not love me. Luce. Not, sir, for any hate I ever bare you, Or any foolish pride or vain conceit, Or that your feature doth not please mine eye, Or that you are not a brave gentleman, But for concealèd reasons I am forced To give you this cold answer, and to swear I must not: then with patience pray forbear. Boyster. Even farewell then. [_Exit_. Luce. The like to you; and, save your hopes in me, Heaven grant you your best wishes! All this strife Will end itself, when I am known a wife. [_Exit_. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I.--_A Room in_ Sir Harry’s _House_. _Enter_ Sir Harry, Haringfield, Gratiana, _with others_. Sir Harry. I am satisfied, good Master Haringfield, Touching your friend; and since I see you have left His dangerous company, I limit[4.43] you To be a welcome guest unto my table. Haringfield. You have been always noble. _Enter_ Taber. Sir Harry. Taber, the news with thee? Taber. May it please thee, right worshipful, to understand that there are some at the gate who dance a turn or two without, and desire to be admitted to speak with you within. Sir Harry. The scholar, is it not?