o my house,
To sojourn even for ever; if my best
in cates, and every sort of good entreaty,
May move you stay with me.
[HE CENSETH: THE BOY STREWS FLOWERS.

MACI. I thank you, sir. --
And yet the muffled Fates, had it pleased them,
Might have supplied me from their own full store.
Without this word, 'I thank you', to a fool.
I see no reason why that dog call'd Chance,
Should fawn upon this fellow more than me;
I am a man, and I have limbs, flesh, blood,
Bones, sinews, and a soul, as well as he:
My parts are every way as good as his;
If I said better, why, I did not lie.
Nath'less, his wealth, but nodding on my wants,
Must make me bow, and cry, 'I thank you, sir'.
[ASIDE.

DELI. Dispatch! take heed your mistress see you not.

FIDO. I warrant you, sir, I'll steal by her softly.
[EXIT.

DELI. Nay, gentle friend, be merry; raise your looks
Out of your bosom: I protest, by heaven,
You are the man most welcome in the world.

MACI. I thank you, sir. -- I know my cue, I think.
[ASIDE.

RE-ENTER FIDO, WITH MORE PERFUMES AND FLOWERS.
FIDO. Where will you have them burn, sir?

DELI. Here, good Fido.
What, she did not see thee?

FIDO. No, sir.

DELI. That is well
Strew, strew, good Fido, the freshest flowers; so!

MACI. What means this, signior Deliro? all this censing?

DELI. Cast in more frankincense, yet more; well said. --
O Macilente, I have such a wife!
So passing fair! so passing-fair-unkind!
But of such worth, and right to be unkind,
Since no man can be worthy of her kindness --

MACI. What, can there not?

DELI. No, that is as sure as death,
No man alive. I do not say, is not,
But cannot possibly be worth her kindness,
Nay, it is certain, let me do her right.
How, said I? do her right! as though I could,
As though this dull, gross tongue of mine could utter
The rare, the true, the pure, the infinite rights.
That sit, as high as I can look, within her!

MACI. This is such dotage as was never heard.

DELI. Well, this must needs be granted.

MACI. Granted, quoth you?

DELI. Nay, Macilente, do not so discredit
The goodness of your judgment to deny it.
For I do speak the very least of her:
And I would crave, and beg no more of Heaven,
For all my fortunes here, but to be able
To utter first in fit terms,