_Leoc._ Why let her It is not that shall mate me; I but ask My hands may reach unto her.
_Theo._ Gentle Lady 'Tis now ill time of farther argument, For I perceive your anger voyd of counsel, Which I could wish more temperate.
_Leoc._ Pray forgive me If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on See more than we that play: and I beseech ye Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments, If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses You must confess are seldom ty'd to patience, Yet I could wish I had said less.
_Theo._ No harm then; Ye have made a full amends; our company You may command, so please you in your travels With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so.
_Theo._ Then it shall be. Go in and rest your self, our wholsome dyet Will be made ready straight: But heark ye Lady One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance That these things may be open to my Brother For more respect and honor.
_Theo._ And do not change this habit by no means Unless ye change your self.
_Theo._ It carries ye concealed and safe.
_Theo._ Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman, And of a noble strain too, ghess.
_Theo._ Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair _Leocadia_ Daughter unto Don _Zanchio_, our noble neighbor.
_Phil. Leocadia_, Pish _Leocadia_, it must not be.
_Phil._ Pray give me leave to wonder, _Leocadia_?
_Phil._ The Damsel _Leocadia_ I ghest it was a woman, and a fair one I see it through her shape, transparent plain But that it should be she; tell me directly.
_Phil._ But heark ye, heark ye Sister, How came she thus disguis'd?
_Theo._ I'll tell you that too As I came on the self-same ground, so us'd too.
_Phil._ As I live You lovers have fine fancies, Wonderous fine ones.
_Phil._ Faith I know not, But in that mind I am, I had rather cobble, 'Tis a more Christian Trade; pray tell me one thing Are not you two now monstrous jealous Of one another?
_Theo._ She is much of me And has rayl'd at me most unmercifully And to my face, and o' my conscience Had she but known me, either she or I Or both, had parted with strange faces She was in such a fury.
_Phil. Leocadia?_ Do's she speak handsomly?
_Theo._ Wondrous well Sir And all she do's becomes her, even her anger.
_Phil._ How seemed she when you found her?