How many rove about the mark on every side:
How many think to hit, when they are much too wide:
How many run too far, how many light too low:
How few to good effect their travail do bestow!
And how all these impute their losses unto me:
Should I have joy to think of marriage now, trow ye?
What saith[388] the world? my love alone, say they,
Is bought so dear, that life and goods for it must pay
Strong youth must spend itself, and yet, when all is done,
We hear of few or none, that have this lady won.
On me they make outcries, and charge me with the blood
Of those, that for my sake adventure life and good.
This grief doth wound my heart so, that suitors more as yet
I see no cause nor reason why I should admit.
REASON.
Ah, daughter, say not so; there is great cause and skill,
For which you should mislike to live unmarried thus alone,
What comfort can you have remaining thus unknown?
How shall the commonwealth by you advanced be,
If you abide inclosed here, where no man may you see?
It is not for your state yourself to take the pain:
All strangers shall resort to you to entertain.
To suffer free access of all that come and go:
To be at each man's call: to travel to and fro.
What then, since God hath plac'd such treasure in your breast,
Wherewith so many thousand think by you to be refresh'd,
Needs must you have some one of high and secret trust,
By whom these things may be well-order'd and discuss'd.
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