Page:The Tragedy of the Duchesse of Malfy (1623).pdf/43

 Bos. What doe you intend to doe?

Ferd. Can you ghesse?

Bos. No:

Ferd. Doe not aske then: He that can compasse me, and know my drifts, May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world, And sounded all her quick-sands.

Bos. I doe not Thinke so.

Ferd. What doe you thinke then? pray?

Bos. That you are Your owne Chronicle too much: and grosly Flatter your selfe.

Ferd. Give me thy hand, I thanke thee: I never gave Pention but to flatterers, Till I entertained thee: farewell, That Friend a Great mans ruine strongely checks, Who railes into his beliefe, all his defects. Dutch. Bring me the Casket hither, and the Glasse; You get no lodging here, to night (my Lord.)

Ant. Indeed, I must perswade one:

Duch. Very good: I hope in time 'twill grow into a custome, That Noble men shall come with cap, and knee, To purchase a nights lodging, of their wives.

Ant. I must lye here.

Dutch. Must? you are a Lord of Misse-rule.

Ant. Indeed, my Rule is onely in the night.

Dutch. To what use will you put me,

Ant. Wee'll sleepe together:

Dutch. Alas, what pleasure can two Lovers find in sleepe?

Car. My Lord, I lye with her often: and I know