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Scaena Tertia.
Enter Alice and Mary.
Al.
HEe cannot be so wilde still.
Ma.
'Tis most certaine
I have now heard all, and all the truth.
Al.
Grant all that:
Is he the first, that h'as bin giv'n a lost man,
And yet come fairely home? he is yong, and tender
And fit for that impression; your affections
Shall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion,
A yeere hence, these mad toyes that now possesse him
Will shew like bugbeares to him, shapes to fright him;
Marriage dissolves all these like mists.
Mar.
They are grounded
Hereditary in him, from his father
And to his grave they will haunt him.
Al.
'Tis your feare
Which is a wise part in you; yet your love
However you may seeme to lessen it
with these dislikes, and choake it with these errors,
Do what you can will break out to excuse him,
Ye have him in your hart, and planted, Cosin,
From whence the power of reason, nor discretion
Can ever roote him.
Mar.
Planted in my heart Aunt?
Beleeve it no, I never was so liberall:
What though he shew a so so comely fellow
Which we call pretty? or say it may be hansom?
What though his promises may stumble at
The power of goodnesse in him, sometimes use too?
Al.
How willingly thy heart betrayes thee cosin?
Cozen thy selfe no more: thou hast no more power
To leave off loving him, then he that's thirsty