How should you wrong her to deny all this?
Good Master Arthur, let me argue with you.

[_They walk aside_.

_Enter_ MASTER ANSELM _and_ MASTER FULLER.

FUL. O Master Anselm! grown a lover, fie!
What might she be, on whom your hopes rely?

ANS. What fools they are that seem most wise in love,
How wise they are that are but fools in love!
Before I was a lover, I had reason
To judge of matters, censure of all sorts,
Nay, I had wit to call a lover fool,
And look into his folly with bright eyes.
But now intruding love dwells in my brain,
And franticly hath shoulder'd reason thence:
I am not old, and yet, alas! I doat;
I have not lost my sight, and yet am blind;
No bondman, yet have lost my liberty;
No natural fool, and yet I want my wit.
What am I, then? let me define myself:
A dotard young, a blind man that can see,
A witty fool, a bondman that is free.

FUL. Good aged youth, blind seer, and wise fool,
Loose your free bonds, and set your thoughts to school.

_Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM.