Sir Thomas, I can help thee to a wife,
Hast thou the luck to win her!

Clif. Master Walter!
You jest!

Wal. I do not jest. I like you! mark -
I like you, and I like not everyone!
I say a wife, sir, can I help you to,
The pearly texture of whose dainty skin
Alone were worth thy baronetcy! Form
And feature has she, wherein move and glow
The charms, that in the marble, cold and still,
Culled by the sculptor's jealous skill and joined there,
Inspire us! Sir, a maid, before whose feet,
A duke--a duke might lay his coronet,
To lift her to his state, and partner her!
A fresh heart too!--a young fresh heart, sir; one
That Cupid has not toyed with, and a warm one -
Fresh, young, and warm! mark that! a mind to boot;
Wit, sir; sense, taste;--a garden strictly tended -
Where nought but what is costly flourishes!
A consort for a king, sir! Thou shalt see her!

Clif. I thank you, Master Walter! As you speak,
Methinks I see me at the altar-foot!
Her hand fast locked in mine!--the ring put on!
My wedding-bell rings merry in my ear;
And round me throng glad tongues that give me joy
To be the bridegroom of so fair a bride!