1 Nay, good lieutenant, God's will, gentlemen.
2 Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
3 Fore God, this is a more exquisite song than the other.
4 God's will, lieutenant, hold, You will be sham'd forever.
5 Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you.
6 Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.
7 Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
8 And then for her To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function.
9 But he, sir, had the election, And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds, Christian and heathen, must be belee'd and calm'd By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I, God bless the mark, his Moorship's ancient.