Why should I love this gentleman? ’Tis odds
He never will affect me. I am base,
My father the mean keeper of his prison,
And he a prince. To marry him is hopeless;
To be his whore is witless. Out upon’t!
What pushes are we wenches driven to
When fifteen once has found us! First, I saw him:
I, seeing, thought he was a goodly man;
He has as much to please a woman in him
(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
These eyes yet look’d on. Next, I pitied him;
And so would any young wench o’ my conscience
That ever dream’d, or vow’d her maidenhead
To a young handsome man. Then, I lov’d him,
Extremely lov’d him, infinitely lov’d him;
And yet he had a cousin, fair as he too;
But in my heart was Palamon, and there,
Lord, what a coil he keeps! To hear him
Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!
And yet his songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken
Was never gentleman. When I come in
To bring him water in a morning, first
He bows his noble body, then salutes me thus:
“Fair gentle maid, good morrow. May thy goodness
Get thee a happy husband!” Once he kiss’d me—
I lov’d my lips the better ten days after.
Would he would do so ev’ry day! He grieves much,
And me as much to see his misery.
What should I do to make him know I love him,
For I would fain enjoy him? Say I ventur’d
To set him free? what says the law then?
Thus much for law or kindred! I will do it,
And this night, or tomorrow, he shall love me.