aughter and thou to
the mother.

_Tho_. She falls off
With such a soddaine ambiguitie,
From the strong heate of her profesd[57] love
That I conceive she intends a regular proofe
Of my untainted Faith.

_Grimes_. Soe I thinke, too: when I was young the plaine downe-right way
serv'd to woe and win a wench; but now woing is gotten, as all things
else are, into the fashion; gallantts now court their Mistress with
mumps & mows as apes and monke[y]s doe.

_Bon_. But cannot all your fluent witt interpret
Why she procastinatts your promisd match?
By this light, her daughter would be married tomorrow
If her mother and I had concluded on the Joynture.

_Tho_. The most evident reason she will give me of this unwellcome
protraccon is she has some new employment to put on me, which performd
she has ingaged her selfe to certainty of her designing me an answerare
[_sic_].

_Enter Lovell_.

_Grimes_. Here comes your Rivall, Mr. _Thorowgood_,--_Alexander_ the
_Great_, her Ladishipps loving Steward.

_Bon_. But does he affect the lady; what's his character?

_Grimes_. He was by trade a taylor, sir, and is the tenth part of the
bumbast that goes to the setting forth of a man: his dealing consists
not much in weight but in the weight of his pressing Iron, under whose
tyranny you shall perceave no small shrinking.

_Tho_. Well said, _Grimes_. On!

_Grimes_. He has alterd himselfe out of his owne cutt since he was
steward; yet, if you saw him in my ladyes Chamber you would take him
for some usher of a dancing schoole, as being aptest in sight for a
crosse cap.

_Tho_. Excellent _Grimes_ still!

_Grimes_. By his cloathes you might deeme him a knight; but yet if you
uncase him, you will find his sattin dublett naught but fore sleaves &
brest, the back part buckram; his cloake and cape of two sorts; his
roses and garters of my ladyes old Cypres: to conclude, sir, he is an
ambodexter or a Jack-of-all-sides & will needs mend that which Nature
made: he takes much upon him since the old Knight dyed, and does fully
intend to run to hell[58] for the lady: he hates all wines and strong
drinks--mary, tis but in publique, for in private he will be drunke, no
tinker like him.

_Bon_. Peace, sirrah; observe.

_Lov_. So, let me see the _summa totalis_ of my sweet ladies
perfections.

_Grimes_. Good, he has her in whole already.

_Tho_. Peace, _Grimes_.

_Lov_. _Imprimis, her faire haire; no silken sleave
Can be so soft the g