Mir. Bless ye, sweet beauties, sweet incomparable ladies,
Sweet wits, sweet humours! Bless you, learned lady!
And you, most holy nun! Bless your devotions!

Lil. And bless your brains, sir, your most pregnant brains, sir!
They are in travail; may they be deliver’d
Of a most hopeful Wild-Goose!

Ros. Bless your manhood!
They say you are a gentleman of action,
A fair accomplish’d man, and a rare engineer;
You have a trick to blow up maidenheads,
A subtle trick, they say abroad.

Mir. I have, lady.

Ros. And often glory in their ruins.

Mir. Yes, forsooth;
I have a speedy trick, please you to try it:
My engine will dispatch you instantly.

Ros. I would I were a woman, sir, fit for you,
As there be such, no doubt, may engine you too;
May, with a counter-mine, blow up your valour.
But, in good faith, sir, we are both too honest;
And, the plague is, we cannot be persuaded:
For, look you, if we thought it were a glory
To be the last of all your lovely ladies—

Mir. Come, come; leave prating: This has spoil’d your market!
This pride and puft-up heart will make ye fast, ladies,
Fast, when ye are hungry too.

Ros. The more our pain, sir.

Lil. The more our health, I hope too.

Mir. Your behaviours
Have made men stand amazed; those men that loved ye;
Men of fair states and parts. Your strange conversions
Into I know not what, nor how, nor wherefore;
Your scorns of those that came to visit ye;
Your studied whim-whams, and your fine set faces:
What have these got ye? Proud and harsh opinions!
A travell’d monsieur was the strangest creature,
The wildest monster to be wonder’d at;
His person made a public scoff, his knowledge
(As if he had been bred ’mongst bears or bandogs)
Shunn’d and avoided; his conversation snuff’d at:
What harvest brings all this?

Ros. I pray you proceed, sir.

Mir. Now ye shall see in what esteem a traveller,
An understanding gentleman, and a monsieur,
Is to be held; and to your griefs confess it,
Both to your griefs and galls!

Lil. In what, I pray ye, sir?
We would be glad to understand your excellence.

Mir. Go on, sweet ladies; it becomes ye rarely!
For me, I have blest me from ye; scoff on seriously,
And note the man ye mock’d. You, lady Learning,
Note the poor traveller that came to visit ye,
That flat unfurnish’d fellow; note him throughly!
You may chance to see him anon.

Lil. ’Tis very likely.

Mir. And see him courted by a travell’d lady,
Held dear, and honour’d by a virtuous virgin;
May be a beauty not far short of yours neither;
It may be, clearer.

Lil. Not unlikely.

Mir. Younger:
As killing eyes as yours, a wit as poignant;
May be, a state too that may top your fortune:
Inquire how she thinks of him, how she holds him;
His good parts, in what precious price already;
Being a stranger to him, how she courts him;
A stranger to his nation too, how she dotes on him;
Inquire of this; be sick to