Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me
Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,
What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs
To beare that load of Title?
An. No in truth

Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,
I would not be a young Count in your way,
For more then blushing comes to: If your backe
Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake
Euer to get a Boy

An. How you doe talke;
I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene,
For all the world

Old.L. In faith, for little England
You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe
Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd
No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?
Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know
The secret of your conference?
An. My good Lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying

Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming
The action of good women, there is hope