_Lady._ Where?
_Mar._ Close at the door.
_Lady._ Alas I am undone, I fear he is be[t]roth'd,
What kind of woman is she?
_Mar._ A most ill favoured one, with her Masque on:
And how her face should mend the rest I know not.
_La._ But yet her mind was of a milder stuff than mine was.
_Enter_ Elder Loveless, _and_ Welford _in Womans apparel._
_Lady._ Now I see him, if my heart swell not again (away thou womans
pride) so that I cannot speak a gentle word to him, let me not live.
_Elder Lo._ By your leave here.
_Lady._ How now, what new trick invites you hither?
Ha'you a fine device again?
_Elder Lo._ Faith this is the finest device I have now:
How dost thou sweet heart?
_Wel._ Why very well, so long as I may please
You my dear Lover. I nor can, nor will
Be ill when you are well, well when you are ill.
_Elder Lo._ O thy sweet temper! what would I have given, that Lady had
been like thee: seest thou her? that face (my love) join'd with thy humble
mind, had made a wench indeed.
_Wel._ Alas my love, what God hath done, I dare not think to mend. I use
no paint, nor any drugs of Art, my hands and face will shew it.
_La._ Why what thing have you brought to shew us there? do you take mony
for it?
_Elder Lo.
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