t bin too little for you,
it was the best peece of worke, that ever I sawe.

_Goos_. Why, my Lord, t'was bigge enough; when I wrought it, for I wore
pantables then you knowe.

_Tal_. Indeed the warmer a man keepes his feete the lesse he needs weare
uppon his head.

_Eug_. You speake for your kinsman the best that ever I heard, my Lord.

_Goos_. But I beleeve, Madam, my Lord my cosen has not told you all my
good parts.

_Ta_. I told him so I warrant you, cosen.

_Hip_. What doe you thinke hee left out sir _Gyles_?

_Goos_. Marry, Madam, I can take _Tobacco_ now, and I have bought
glow-wormes to kindle it withall, better then all the burning glasses
ith World.

_Eug_. Glowe-wormes, sir _Giles_? will they make it burne?

_Goos_. O good Madam, I feed am with nothing but fire, a purpose, Ile
besworne they eat me five Faggots a-weeke in Charcoale.

_Tal_. Nay he has the strangest devices, Ladies, that ever you heard,
I warrent ye.

_Fur_. That's a strange device indeed, my Lord.

_Hip_. But your sowing, sir _Gyles_, is a most gentlewoman-like quality,
I assure you.

_Pene_. O farr away, for now, servant, you neede never marry, you are
both husband, and wife your selfe.

_Goos_. Nay indeed, mistris, I wood faine marry for all that, and ile
tell you my reason, if you will.

_Pene_. Let's here it good servant.

_Goos_. Why, Madam, we have a great match at football towards, married
men against batchellers, and the married men be all my friends, so I
wood faine marry to take the married mens parts in truth.

_Hip_. The best reason for marriage that ever I heard sir _Gyles_.

_Goos_. I pray will you keepe my worke a little, Mistris; I must needes
straine a little courtesie in truth. [_Exit Sir Gyles_.

_Hip_. Gods my life, I thought he was a little to blame.

_Rud_. Come, come, you he[a]re not me, dame.

_Pur_. Well said, sir _Cut_: to her now; we shall heare fresh courting.

_Hip_. Alas, sir _Cut_, you are not worth the hearing, every body saies
you cannot love, howsoever you talke on't.

_Rud_. Not love, dame? slidd what argument woodst have of my love, tro?
lett me looke as redde as Scarlet a fore I see thee, and when thou comst
in sight if the sunne of thy beauty, doe not white me like a shippards
holland, I am a _Iewe_ to my Creator.

_Hip_. O excellent!

_Rud_. Let me burst like a Tode, if a frowne of thy browe has not turned
the very heart in my bellie and made mee readie to be hangd by the