A great man is a
great house with too much garret and his head full of nothing but
lumber: if he be too round agen hees only fitt to be hung upp in a
Christall glasse. The truth is the man I love must please me at first
sight; if he take my eye I may take more tyme to examine his talent.
_Sir_Fr_.
Do you but grace him with accesse and aske your owne fancie,
Ladie, how you can affect him. Ile not despaire if he were cur'd of
modesty, which is the whole fault in his behaviour; but he may passe
without contempt.
_Do_.
That modestie is a foule fault.
_Enter_Captaine_Underwitt_.
_Un_.
Come away, Cosen; Sir _Richard's_ come and calls for you; the
Coachman is ready to mount. Noble Sir _Richard_, because you may not
loose breath, you may call me a Captaine, please you, a Captaine o' the
train'd band.
_Sis_.
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