Her mornings gives to mercers, milliners,
Shoemakers, jewellers, and haberdashers;
Her noons, to calls; her afternoons, to dressing;
Evenings, to plays and drums; and nights, to routs,
Balls, masquerades! Sleep only ends the riot,
Which waking still begins!

Wal. I'm all amaze!
How bears Sir Thomas this?

Heart. Why, patiently;
Though one can see with pain.

Wal. She loves him? Ha!
That shrug is doubt! She'd ne'er consent to wed him
Unless she loved him!--never! Her young fancy
The pleasures of the town--new things--have caught,
Anon their hold will slacken; she'll become
Her former self again; to its old train
Of sober feelings will her heart return;
And then she'll give it wholly to the man
Her virgin wishes chose!

Heart. Here comes Sir Thomas;
And with him Master Modus.

Wal. Let them pass:
I would not see him till I speak with her.

[They retire into one of the Arbours.]