Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of
colde

Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue
you profest apprehension?
Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become
me rarely?
Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in
your cap, by my troth I am sicke

Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus
and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell

Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall
in this benedictus

Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning,
I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance
that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not
such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke
what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke
my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you
will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke
was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore
hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his
heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you
may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke