Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter.
O that your face were full of Oes
Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes:
But Katherine, what was sent to you
From faire Dumaine?
Kat. Madame, this Gloue
Qu. Did he not send you twaine?
Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie
Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile.
The Letter is too long by halfe a mile
Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short
Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part
Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so
Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe.
O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
And wait the season, and obserue the times,
And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes,
And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice,
And make him proud to make me proud that iests.
So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state,
That he shold be my foole, and I his fate
Qu.
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