That it beates downe againe my clyming thoughts.

_Petron_. Why, true;
And other of thy blindnesses thou seest[?]
Such one to love thou dar'st not speake unto.
Give me a wench that will be easily had
Not woed with cost, and being sent for comes:
And when I have her foulded in mine armes
Then _Cleopatra_ she, or _Lucres_ is;
Ile give her any title.

_Anto_. Yet not so much her greatnesse and estate
My hopes disharten as her chastitie.

_Petron_. Chastitie! foole! a word not knowne in Courts.
Well may it lodge in meane and countrey homes
Where povertie and labour keepes them downe,
Short sleepes and hands made hard with _Thuscan_ Woll,
But never comes to great mens Pallaces
Where ease and riches stirring thoughts beget,
Provoking meates and surfet wines inflame;
Where all there setting forth's but to be wooed,
And wooed they would not be but to be wonne.
Will one man serve _Poppea_? nay, thou shalt
Make her as soone contented with an [one?] eye.

_Nimphidius_ to them.

_Nimph_. Whil'st _Nero_ in the streetes his Pageants shewes
I to his fair wives chambers sent for am.