Em, the millers daughter of Manchester.

VALINGFORD.
But may this be?

MOUNTNEY.
Why not, my Lord? I hope full well you know
That love respects no difference of state,
So beauty serve to stir affection.

VALINGFORD.
But this it is that makes me wonder most:
That you and I should be of one conceit
I such a strange unlikely passion.

MOUNTNEY.
But is that true? My Lord, I hope you do but jest.

VALINGFORD.
I would I did; then were my grief the less.

MOUNTNEY.
Nay, never grieve; for if the cause be such
To join our thoughts in such a Simpathy,
All envy set aside, let us agree
To yield to eithers fortune in this choice.

VALINGFORD.
Content, say I: and what so ere befall,
Shake hands, my Lord, and fortune thrive at all.