Pinac. There’s for your diligence.

[Gives money.

Serv. There’s her chamber, sir,
And this way she comes out; stand you but here, sir,
You have her at your prospect, or your pleasure.

Pinac. Is she not very angry?

Serv. You’ll find that quickly:
May be she’ll call you saucy, scurvy fellow,
Or some such familiar name; may be she knows you,
And will fling a piss-pot at you, or a pantofle,
According as you are in acquaintance: If she like you,
May be she’ll look upon you; may be no;
And two months hence call for you.

Pinac. This is fine.
She is monstrous proud then?

Serv. She is a little haughty;
Of a small body, she has a mind well mounted.
Can you speak Greek?

Pinac. No, certain.

Serv. Get you gone then!—
And talk of stars, and firmaments, and fire-drakes?
Do you remember who was Adam’s schoolmaster,
And who taught Eve to spin? She knows all these,
And will run you over the beginning o’ th’ world
As familiar as a fiddler.
Can you sit seven hours together, and say nothing?
Which she will do, and, when she speaks, speak oracles,
Speak things that no man understands, nor herself neither.

Pinac. Thou mak’st me wonder!

Serv. Can you smile?

Pinac. Yes, willingly;
For naturally I bear a mirth about me.

Serv. She’ll ne’er endure you then; she’s never merry;
If she see one laugh, she’ll swoon past aquœ vitœ.
Never come near her, sir; if you chance to venture,
And talk not like a doctor, you are damn’d too.
I have told you enough for your crown, and so good speed you!

[Exit

Pinac. I have a pretty task if she be thus curious,
As, sure, it seems she is! If I fall off now,
I shall be laugh’d at fearfully; if I go forward,
I can but be abused, and that I look for;
And yet I may hit right, but ’tis unlikely.
Stay! in what mood and figure shall I attempt her?
A careless way? No, no, that will not waken her;
Besides, her gravity will give me line still,
And let me lose myself; yet this way often
Has hit, and handsomely. A wanton method?
Ay, if she give it leave to sink into her consideration:
But there’s the doubt: If it but stir her blood once,
And creep into the crannies of her fancy,
Set her a-gog—But if she chance to slight it,
And by the power of her modesty fling it back,
I shall appear the arrant’st rascal to her,
The most licentious knave—for I shall talk lewdly.
To bear myself austerely? rate my words?
And fling a general gravity about me,
As if I meant to give laws? But this I cannot do,
This is a way above my understanding:
Or, if I could, ’tis odds she’ll think I mock her;
For serious and sad things are ever still
Suspicious. Well, I’ll say something:
But learning I have none, and less good manners,
Especially for ladies. Well; I’ll set my best face.
I hear some coming. This is the first woman
I ever fear’d yet, the first face that shakes me.

[Stands apart.