de cheeke & lypp, a nose emperyall,
And everye feature ells of excellence!

_Fue_. Alas I am but a grosse servyngman, yet vertue
will sparkell.

_Char_. Why, theres a hande that aunswers to hys foote!

_Fue_. I & a true one toe, or bourne it ells.

_Char_. A legge and necke of one cyrcompherence,
A waste that is no hygher then hys thye,
And all parts ells of stronge proportyon.
I am inchaunted with thys vyssyon.

_Did_.--In hells name what behould's hys majestie
To doate uppon thys rascall!

_Fue_. It was a scurvye thynge in nature that she did not tourne mans
eies inwarde. Why, had I seene as much as the emperoure I myghte have
been a monarke by thys time. I will growe proude.

_Char_. O thou the onlye sweetnes of my soule,
Give me but leave to touche thee, let my hand
(Chast loves most bashful messenger) presume
[To stro]ake theise flowers that in thy lovelie [chee]kes
Flouryshe like somer garlands. In soothe my soule
Loves thee beyond relatyon; for thee I doate
And dye in thyne affectyon. Come, Ile make
Thee greater then all _Fraunce_, above the peres,
The proudest he that breathes shall thynke hym blest
To do thee servyce, and esteeme it heaven
To be thyne ape in imytatyon.

_Fue_. Nowe must I be coy by all meanes.--Trulye for myne owne parte I
must love by dyscretyon, and discretyon tells me I ought not to love an
oulde man, for ould men must needs be ingratfull.

_Char_. Why, deare sweete?

_Fue_. Because they can never live to rewarde benefytts.

_Tur_.--Bytter knave.

_Char_. O doe not feare; my bountye shall exceede
The power of thyne askynge; thou shalt treade
Uppon the heads of prynces. Bowe, you lords,
And fall before thys saynte I reverence.

_Tur. Rich. Did_. Honors to hym the emperor doth honor!

_Fue_. Aryse, my good subjects; onlye for that roauge there the first
acte of my chronickle shalbe hys hanginge.

_Did_. O be not angrye with your humble servante:
I ever did adore you,

_Fue_. Yes like the meales that thou hast devourd halfe chewd for
greedynes. But revendge comes nowe gallopinge.

_Char_. Who hathe displeasd my dearest? name hys name,
The verye breathe shall blast hym; onlye, sweete,
Love me & have thy wishes.

_Fue_. Well, I am contented to love you; and why? For nothing but
because you are an oulde man.

_Char_. Why, tys the onlye tye of faythfulines:
Age is the onlye object of the harte,
And by's experyence onlye hathe aspyrd
Toth heyght of all perfectyon.