 thy wife, fat love, I would.

                             _+She+ sings._

    _My lodging upon the cold floor is,
    And wonderful hard is my fare,
    But that which troubles me more, is
    The fatness of my dear.
    Yet still I do cry, O, melt, love,
    And I prythee now melt apace;
    For thou art the man I should long for,
    If 'twere not for thy grease._

                         _+Pinguister+ sings._

        _Then prythee don't burden thy heart still,
        And be deaf to my pitiful moan;
        Since I do endure the smart still,
        And for my fat do groan;
        Then prythee now turn, my dear love,
        And I prythee now turn to me;
        For, alas! I am too fat still
        To roll so far to thee._

    +Mir.+ That were not modesty in me to turn
    To you; but if you can roll to me within
    This hour, I'll marry you in spite of all
    Your fat.

    +Ping.+ Agreed, then I shall gain thee yet;
    You must lie still then.

    +Mir.+ Yes, yes.

    +Ping.+ Sure, I am
    Sysiphus's stone, for as fast as I turn
    Over, I think I turn back again, else I
    Must needs have been come to my journey's end
                             [_He rolls to her, and she rolls from him._
    By this time; for I am of such a breadth,
    That every roll I give I pass over
    An acre at least. Thou liest still, my love,
    Dost thou not?

    +Mir.+ Yes, I long to have thee here.

    +Ping.+ I doubt I shan't be with thee, though,
    This two hours.

    +Mir.+ Then my heart will break.

    +Ping.+ I'm sure mine will before I get to thee.
    O woman, O woman, O woman!
    They talk of woman in travail, I'm
    Sure I know a man in travail at
    This time, in more pain by half.     [_She rises and laughs at him._

    +Mir.+ Why, my most extreme fat ass, dost
    Thou not find that I have fool'd thee
    All this while?

    +Ping.+ Why, hast thou?

    +Mir.+ Yes, indeed have I.

    +Ping.+ O thou woman! may'st thou grow
    Fat, that thy breast and belly may
    Meet together, so that