And every ill. But--

_Mel_. Stay, stay my Friend,
I fear this sound will not become our loves; no more,
embrace me.

_Amint_. Oh mistake me not;
I know thee to be full of all those deeds
That we frail men call good: but by the course
Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly chang'd
As are the winds, dissembling as the Sea,
That now wears brows as smooth as Virgins be,
Tempting the Merchant to invade his face,
And in an hour calls his billows up,
And shoots 'em at the Sun, destroying all
He carries on him. O how near am I

[_Aside_.

To utter my sick thoughts!

_Mel_. But why, my Friend, should I be so by Nature?

_Amin_. I have wed thy Sister, who hath vertuous thoughts
Enough for one whole family, and it is strange
That you should feel no want.

_Mel_. Believe me, this complement's too cunning for me.

_Diph_. What should I be then by the course of nature,