Pinac. Madam, I came with duty, and fair courtesy,
Service, and honour to you.

Lil. You came to jeer me!
You see I am merry, sir; I have changed my copy:
None of the sages now, and pray you proclaim it;
Fling on me what aspersion you shall please, sir,
Of wantonness, or wildness; I look for it;
And tell the world, I am an hypocrite,
Mask in a forc’d and borrow’d shape, I expect it;
But not to have you believed: For, mark you, sir,
I have won a nobler estimation,
A stronger tie by my discretion
Upon opinion (howe’er you think I forc’d it)
Than either tongue or art of yours can slubber,
And, when I please, I will be what I please, sir,
So I exceed not mean; and none shall brand it,
Either with scorn or shame, but shall be slighted.

Pinac. Lady, I come to love you.

Lil. Love yourself, sir;
And when I want observers, I’ll send for you.
Heigh-ho! my fit’s almost off; for we do all by fits, sir.
If you be weary, sit till I come again to you.

[Exit with Petella.

Pinac. This is a wench of a dainty spirit; but
Hang me if I know yet either what to think
Or make of her; she had her will of me,
And baited me abundantly, I thank her;
And, I confess, I never was so blurted,
Nor ever so abused: I must bear mine own sins.
You talk of travels; here’s a curious country!
Yet I will find her out, or forswear my faculty.

[Exit.

SCENE III.—Another Room in the same.

Enter Rosalura and Oriana.

Ros. Ne’er vex yourself, nor grieve; you are a fool then.

Ori. I am sure I am made so: Yet, before I suffer
Thus like a girl, and give him leave to triumph—

Ros. You say right; for as long as he perceives you
Sink under his proud scornings, he’ll laugh at you:
For me, secure yourself; and for my sister,
I partly know her mind too: Howsoever,
To obey my father, we have made a tender
Of our poor beauties to the travell’d monsieur,
Yet two words to a bargain! He slights us
As skittish things, and we shun him as curious.
May be, my free behaviour turns his stomach,
And makes him seem to doubt a loose opinion:
I must be so sometimes, though all the world saw it.

Ori. Why should not you? Are not minds only measured?
As long as here you stand secure—

Ros. You say true;
As long as mine own conscience makes no question,
What care I for report? that woman’s miserable,
That’s good or bad for their tongue’s sake. Come, let’s retire,
And get my veil, wench; by my troth, your sorrow,
And the consideration of men’s humorous maddings,
Have put me into a serious contemplation.

Enter Mirabel and Belleur, and stand apart.

Ori. Come, ’faith, let’s sit and think.

Ros. That’s all my business.

Mir. Why stand’st thou peeping here? Thou great slug, forward!

Bel. She is there; peace!