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Iach. I neuer saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his Companion, one An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine, (Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh, Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowes By History, Report, or his owne proofe What woman is, yea what she cannot choose But must be: will's free houres languish: For assured bondage? Imo. Will my Lord say so? Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter, It is a Recreation to be by And heare him mocke the Frenchman: But Heauen's know some men are much too blame