ROSALINE

Hath a short finger and a naked chin; A skipping eye, dare lay my judgement (faith) His love is glibbery; there's no hold ont, wench: Give me a husband whose aspect is firm, A full cheeked gallant, with a bouncing thigh: O, he is the Paradizo dell madonne contento. For fancies passion, spit upon him; figh: His face is varnished: in the name of love, What country bred that creature? Matzagent? now by my pleasures hope, He is made Like a tilting staff; and looks For all the world Like and over-roasted pig: A great Tobacco taker too, thats flat. For his eyes look as if they had be hung In the smoke of his nose. Avoid him: for he hath a dwindled leg, A low forehead, and a thin coalblack beard, And will be jealous too, believe it sweet: For his chin sweats, and hath a gander neck, A thin lip, and a little monkish eye: Precious, what a slender waste he hath! He looks Like a Maypole, or a notched stick: Heel snap in two at every little strain. Give me a husband that will fill mine arms, Of steady judgement, quick and nimble sense: Fools relish not a Ladies excellence. But what? pree the go down, lets see her face: God send that neither wit nor beauty wants Those tempting sweets, affections Adamants. Nay faith, sweet creature, weel not veil our names. It pleased the Font to dip me Rossaline. That Lady bears the name of Mellida, The duke of Venice daughter. Nothing but little humours: good sweet, on. Pleasures body, what makes my Lady weep? Faith all the nobler, 'tis more generous. Savourly put off. I vouchsafe it; be my slave. Signior Balurdo, wilt thou be my servant too? I'll spit in thy mouth, and thou wilt, to grace thee. Flaviam, attend me to attire me. Belike the falling sickness. What servant, never a word, and I here man? I would shoot some speech forth, to strike the time With pleasing touch of amorous compliment. Say sweet, what keeps thy mind, what thinkest thou Pish, pish; I fixed in unmoved scorn? Why, I'll love thee to night. Faith, as the toy puts me in the head. And walk? And eat apples? Body a me, the Duke: away the glass. By the sweet of love, I should fear extreme lie that he were and Eunuch. Spark spirit, how Like you his voice? So help me, youth, thy voice squeaks Like a dry cork shoe: come, come; lets hear the next. Come, kneel, kneel. O, when I see one were a perewig, I dread his hair; another wallow in a great slop, I mistrust the proportion of his thigh; and wears a ruffled boot, I fear the fashion of his leg. Thus, something in each thing, one trick in every thing makes me mistrust im perfection in all parts; and there's the full point of my addiction. Or rather, your glow worm represents your wit, which only seems to have fire in it, though indeed 'tis but and ignis fatuus, and shines only in the dark dead night of fools admiration. Faith sir, your wits spurs have but walking ro wells; dull, blunt, they will not draw blood: the gen tlemen ushers may admit them the Presence, for any wrong they can do to Ladies. Troth uncle, when my sweet faced cuz hath told me how she likes the thing, called wedlock; may be I'll take a survey of the checkroll of my servants; & he that hath the best parts of, I'll prick him down for my husband. Troth, one that will besiege thy maidenhead, Enter the walls i'faith (sweet Mellida ) If that thy flankers be not Canon proof. Troth not a whit; good fair, lets have it all: I love not, I, to have a jot left out, If the tale come from a loved Orator. Why weeps soft hearted Florisell? Faugh, what a strong sent's here, some body uses to wear socks. Oh, your fool is your only servant. But good Fe liche why art thou so sad? a penny for thy thought, ma ̄ . What was thy thought, good servant? Here wants a little white, Flaviam. Kneel down, and isle dub thee knight of the golden harp. No body, good sweet uncle. I tell you, sir, I have 39. servants, and my munkey that makes the for tieth. Now I love all of them lightly for something, but affect none of them seriously for any thing. One's a passionate fool, and he flatters me above belief: the second's a tasty ape, and he rails at me beyond reason: the third's as graven as some Censor, and he strokes up his moustaches three times, and makes six plots of set faces, before he speaks one wise word: the fourth's as dry, as the burre of and heartichoke; the fifth paints, and hath always a good colour for what he speaks: the sixth A glow worm, the word? Splendescit tantum to nebris. By my nine and thirsteth servant (sweet) Thou art in love, but stand on tiptoed fair, Here comes Saint Tristram Tirlery whiff i'faith. Good sweet lets to her, pree the Mellida. Pish, 'tis our nature to desire things That are thought strangers to the common cut. Good sweet Lady, without more ceremonies, What country claims your birth, & sweet your name? Now by my troth, I long beyond all thought, To know the man; sweet beauty deign his name. Sweet Lady, nay good sweet, now by my troth Weel be bedfellows: dirt on compliment froth. Whats that nothing? Good, why, wouldst thou have us sluts, & ne ver shift the vestur of our thoughts? Away for shame. Can a ghost speak? Not mine, my Lord. Good sweet Duke, first let their voices, strain for music's price. Give me the golden harp: faith with your favour, isle be vmperesse. By this gold, I had rather have a servant with a short nose, and a thin hair, then have such a high stretched minikin voice. Faith, kind uncle, when men abandon ielosy, forsake taking of Tobacco, and cease to wear their beards so rudely long. O, to have a husband with a mouth continually smoking, with a bush of furs on the ridge of his chin, ready still to slop into his foe ming chaps; ah, 'tis more than most intolerable. Nay, good sweet cuz raise up your drooping eyes, & I were at the point of To have & to hold, from this day forward, I would be ashamed to look thus lum pish. What my pretty Cuz, 'tis but the lose of and odd maidenhead: shall's dance? thou art so sad, hark in mine ear. I was about to say, but isle forbear.