_Lel._ And shall I be so childish once again, After my late experience of your spight To credit you? you do not know how deep (Or if you did you would be kinder to me,) This bitterness of yours has struck my heart.
_Lel._ Thus you would do I warrant, If I were married to you.
_Lel._ Yes, is not that the best end, And, as all hold, the noblest way of love? Why do you look so strange, Sir? do not you Desire it should be so?
_Lel._ I! are you there? are all these tears lost then? Am I so overtaken by a fool In my best days and tricks? my wise fellow, I'll make you smart for't as I am a woman, And if thou beest not timber, yet I'll warm thee; And is he gone?
_Lel._ He's not so lightly struck, To be recovered with a base repentance, I should be sorry then; Fortune, I prithee Give me this man but once more in my arms, And if I lose him, women have no charms. [_Exeunt._
_Jac._ Seignior, what think you of this sound of Wars?
_Fab._ As only of a sound; they that intend To do, are like deep waters that run quietly, Leaving no face of what they were, behind 'em. This rumour is too common, and too loud To carry truth.
_Jac._ Shall we never live to see Men look like men again, Upon a March? This cold dull rusty peace makes u[s] appear Like empty Pictures, only the faint shadows Of what we should be; Would to Heaven my Mother Had given but half her will to my begetting, And made me woman, to sit still and sing, Or be sick when I list, or any thing That is too idle for a man to think of; Would I had been a Whore, 't had been a course Certain, and (o' my Conscience) of more gain Than two commands, as I would handle it: 'Faith, I could wish I had been any thing Rather tha[n] what I am, a Souldier; A Carrier or a Cobler, when I knew What 'twas to wear a Sword first; for their trades Are, and shall be a constant way of life, While men send Cheeses up, or wear out Buskins.
_Fab._ Thou art a little too impatient, And mak'st thy anger a far more vexation Than the not having Wars; I am a Souldier, Which is my whole inheritance, yet I Though I could wish a breach with all the world, If not dishonourable, I am not so malicious, To curse the fair peace of my Mother Country; But thou want'st money, and the first supply Will bury these thoughts in thee.