_Lean_.
That ye may intend me.
The time has blest us both: love bids us use it.
I am a Gentleman nobly descended, Young to invite your love, rich to maintain it.
I bring a whole heart to ye, thus I give it, And to those burning altars thus I offer, And thus, divine lips, where perpetual Spring grows--
_Am_.
Take that, ye are too saucy.
_Lean_.
How, proud Lady?
Strike my deserts?
_Am_.
I was to blame.
_Enter_
Bartolus.
_Bar_.
What wife, there?
Heaven keep my house from thieves.
_Lean_.
I am wretched: Opened, discovered, lost to my wishes.
I shall be whooted at.
_Bar_.
What noise was this, wife?
Why dost thou smile?
_Lean_.
This proud thing will betray me.
_Bar_. Why these lie here? what angry, dear?
_Am_.
No, Sir, Only a chance, your pupil said he plaid well, And so indeed he do's: he undertook for ye, Because I would not sit so long time idle, I made my liberty, avoided your mate, And he again as cunningly endangered me, Indeed he put me strangely to it. When presently Hearing you come, & having broke his ambush too, Having the second time brought off my Queen fair, I rose o'th' sudden smilingly to shew ye, My apron caught the Chesse-board, and the men, And there the noise was.
_Bar_.
Thou art grown a Master, For all this I shall beat ye.
_Lean_.
Or I, Lawyer, For now I love her more, 'twas a neat answer, And by it hangs a mighty hope, I thank her, She gave my pate a sound knock that it rings yet, But you shall have a sounder if I live lawyer, My heart akes yet, I would not be in that fear--
_Bar_.
I am glad ye are a gamester, Sir, sometimes For recreation we two shall fight hard at it.
_Am_.
He will prove too hard for me.
_Lean_.
I hope he shall do, But your Chess-board is too hard for my head, line that, good Lady.
_Bar_.
I have been attoning two most wrangling neighbours, They had no mony, therefore I made even.
Come, let's go in and eat, truly I am hungry.
_Lean_.
I have eaten already, I must intreat your pardon.
_Bar_.
Do as ye please, we shall expect ye at supper.
He has got a little heart, now it seems handsomly.
_Am_.
You'l get no little head, if I do not look to ye.
_Lean_.
If ever I do catch thee again thou vanity--
_Am_.
I was to blame to be so rash, I am sorry--
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima_.