Thank you, madam, but 'will not sing.
TIB. Tut, the only way to win him is to abstain from entreating him.
CRI. Do you love singing, lady?
CHL. Oh, passingly.
CRI. Entreat the ladies to entreat me to sing then, I beseech you.
CHL. I beseech your grace, entreat this gentleman to sing.
JUL. That we will Chloe; can he sing excellently?
CHL. I think so, madam: for he entreated me to entreat you to entreat him to sing.
CRI. Heaven and earth! Would you tell that?
JUL. Good sir, let's entreat you to use your voice.
CRI. Alas, madam, I cannot in truth.
PLA. The gentleman is modest: I warrant you, he sings excellently.
OVI. Hermogenes, clear your throat: I see by him, here's a gentleman will worthily challenge you.
CRI. Not I, sir, I'll challenge no man.
TIB. That's your modesty, sir: but we, out of an assurance of your excellency, challenge him in your behalf.
CRI. I thank you, gentlemen, I'll do my best.
HER. Let that best be good, sir, you were best.
GAL. Oh, this contention is excellent. What is't you sing, sir?
CRI. ›If I freely may discover,‹ etc. Sir, I'll sing that.
OVI. One of your own compositions, Hermogenes. He offers you vantage enough.
CRI. Nay truly, gentlemen, I'll challenge no man ––: I can sing but one staff of the ditty neither.
GAL. The better: Hermogenes himself will be entreated to sing the other.
Song
If I freely may discover,
What would please me in my lover:
I would have her fair, and witty,
Savouring more of court, than city;
A little proud, but full of pity:
Light, and humorous in her toying,
Oft building hopes, and soon destroying,
Long, but sweet in the enjoying,
Neither too easy, nor too hard:
All extremes I would have barred.
GAL. Believe me, sir, you sing most excellently.
OVI. If there were a praise above excellence, the gentleman highly deserves it.
HER. Sir, all this doth not yet make me envy you: for I know I sing better than you.
TIB. Attend Hermogenes, now.
2
She should be allowed her passions,
So they were but used as fashions;
Sometimes froward, and then frowning,
Sometimes sickish, and then swooning,
Every fit, with change, still crowning.
Purely jealous, I would have her,
Then only constant when I crave her.
'Tis a virtue should not save her.
Thus, nor her delicates would cloy me,
Neither her peevishness annoy me.
JUL. Nay, Hermogenes, your merit hath long since been both known, and admired of us.
HER.
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