_Sir Gr._ Say you so? I'll know that presently. [_Exit._
_Neece._ Now he runs To fetch my Uncle to this musty bargain, But I have better ware always at hand. And lay by this still, when he comes to cheapen.
_Cun._ I met the Musick now, yet cannot learn What entertainment he receiv'd from her.
_Nee._ There's some body set already, I must to't, I see, Well, well, Sir _Gregory_?
_Nee._ Where e'er you come, you may well boast your conquest.
_Cun._ She's lost y'faith, enough, has fortune then Remembred her great boy? she seldom fails 'em.
_Nee._ H' was the unlikeliest man at first, methought, To have my love, we never met but wrangled.
_Cun._ A pox upon that wrangling, say I still, I never knew it fail yet, where e'er't came; It never comes but like a storm of hail, 'Tis sure to bring fine weather at the tail on't, There's not one match 'mongst twenty made without it, It fights i' th' tongue, but sure to agree i' th' haunches.
_Nee._ That man that should ha' told me when time was. I should ha' had him, had been laught at piteously, But see how things will change!
_Cun._ Here's a heart feels it--Oh the deceitful promises of love! What trust should a man put i' th' lip of woman? She kist me with that strength, as if sh'ad meant To ha' set the fair print of her soul upon me.
_Nee._ I would ha' sworn 'twould ne'er ha been a match once.
_Cun._ I'll hear no more, I'm mad to hear so much, Why should I aim my thoughts at better fortunes Than younger brothers have? that's a Maid with nothing, Or some old Soap-boilers Widow, without Teeth, There waits my fortune for me, seek no farther. [_Ex._ Cun.
_Old K._ You tell me things, _Sir Gregory_, that cannot be. She will not, nor she dares not.
_Nee._ I'll make as little shew of love, _Sir Gregory_, As ever Woman did, you shall not know You have my heart a good while.
_Nee._ Man will insult so soon, 'tis his condition, 'Tis good to keep him off as long as we can, I've much ado, I swear; and love i' th' end Will have his course, let Maids do what they can, They are but frail things till they end in man.
_Nee._ And by that little wrangling that I fain'd, Now I shall try how constant his love is, Although't went sore against my heart to chide him.
_Old K._ Now y'are sure of truth, You hear her own thoughts speak.