pests from her windpipe.

_Gui._ Here's one (I think) has swallowed a
porcupine, shee casts pricks from her tongue so.

_Mont._ And here's a peacock seemes to have 250
devour'd one of the Alpes, she has so swelling
a spirit, & is so cold of her kindnes.

_Char._ We are no windfalls, my lord; ye must
gather us with the ladder of matrimony, or we'l
hang till we be rotten. 255

_Mons._ Indeed, that's the way to make ye right
openarses. But, alas, ye have no portions fit for
such husbands as we wish you.

_Per._ Portions, my lord! yes, and such portions
as your principality cannot purchase. 260

_Mons._ What, woman, what are those portions?

_Per._ Riddle my riddle, my lord.

_Mons._ I, marry, wench, I think thy portion
is a right riddle; a man shall never finde it out:
but let's heare it. 265

_Per._ You shall, my lord.
_What's that, that being most rar's most cheap?
That when you sow, you never reap?
That when it growes most, most you [th]in it,
And still you lose it, when you win it? 270
That when tis commonest, tis dearest,
And when tis farthest off, 'tis neerest?_

_Mons._ Is this your great portion?

_Per._ Even this, my lord.

_Mons._ Beleeve me, I cannot riddle it. 275

_Per._ No, my lord; tis my chastity, which you
shall neither riddle nor fiddle.

_Mons._ Your chastity! Let me begin with the
end of it; how is a womans chastity neerest
man, when tis furthest off? 280

_Per._ Why, my lord, when you cannot get it,
it goes to th'heart on you; and that I think comes
most neere you: and I am sure it shall be farre
enough off. And so wee leave you to our mercies. _Exeunt Women._

_Mons._ Farewell, riddle. 285

_Gui._ Farewell, medlar.

_Mont._ Farewell, winter plum.

_Mons._ Now, my lords, what fruit of our inquisition?
feele you nothing budding yet? Speak,
good my lord Montsurry. 290

_Mont._ Nothing but this: D'Ambois is thought
negligent in observing the Duchesse, and therefore
she is suspicious that your neece or my wife
closely entertaines him.

_Mons._ Your wife, my lord! Thi