Let her have your voices. Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not, To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat⁠—the young affects In me defunct⁠—and proper satisfaction. But to be free and bounteous to her mind: And heaven defend your good souls, that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me: no, when light-wing’d toys Of feather’d Cupid seal with wanton dullness My speculative and officed instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation!

Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste, And speed must answer it.