I do not every day propound to women;
You are a prettie one; and though each hour
I am glutted with the sacrifice of beautie,
I may be brought, as you may handle it,
To cast so good a grace and liking on you.
You understand, come kiss me, and be joyfull,
I give you leave.

_Zen_. Faith Sir, 'twill not shew handsome;
Our sex is blushing, full of fear, unskil'd too
In these alarms.

_Clod_. Learn then and be perfect.

_Zen_. I do beseech your honour pardon me,
And take some skilfull one can hold you play,
I am a fool.

_Clod_. I tell thee maid I love thee,
Let that word make thee happie, so far love thee,
That though I may enjoy thee without ceremony,
I will descend so low, to marry thee,
Me thinks I see the race that shall spring from us,
Some Princes, some great Souldiers.

_Zen_. I am afraid
Your honour's couzen'd in this calculation;
For certain, I shall ne're have a child by you.

_Clod_. Why?