MARGARET

So would not I for your own sake, for I have ma nigh ill qualities. I say my prayers aloud. Oh illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heals. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Well, and you be not turned Turk, theres no more sailing by the star. Nothing I, but God send every one their hearts de sire. A maid and stuffed! theres goodly catching of cold. Ever since you left it, does not my wit become me rarely? Get you some of this distilled carduus benedictus, and lay it to your heart, it is the only thing for a qualm. Moral? no by my troth I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy thissel, you may think perchance that I think you are in love, nay byr'lady I am not such a fool to think what I list nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed I can not think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedicke was such another and now is he become a man, he swore he would never marry, and yet now in despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging, and how you may be converted I know not, but me thinks you look with your eyes as other women do. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beau tie? To have no man come over me, why shall I always keep below stairs. And your's, as blunt as the Fencers foils, which hit, but hurt not. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. God match me with a good dancer. And God keep him out of my sighed when the dance is done: answer Clarke. I'll make her come I warrant you presently. Troth I think your other rebato were better. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so. By my troth's but a nightgown it respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac worser with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round underborn with a blewish sell, but for a fine quaint graceful and excellent fa shion, yours is worth ten on't. Will be heavier soon by the weight of a man. Of what lady? of speaking honourably? is not marri age honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your reverence a husband: & bade thinking do not wrest true spea king, isle offend no body, is there any harm in the heavier, for a husband? none I think, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy, ask my lady Bea trice else, here she comes. Not a false gallop. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. I Like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion i'faith, I saw the Duchess of Millaines gown that they praise so. Clap's into Light a love, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it, and isle dance it.