Mir. Now for thine honour, Pinac! Board me this modesty,
Warm but this frozen snow-ball, ’twill be a conquest
(Although I know thou art a fortunate wencher,
And hast done rarely in thy days) above all thy ventures.

Bel. You will be ever near?

Mir. At all necessities;
And take thee off, and set thee on again, boy,
And cherish thee, and stroke thee.

Bel. Help me out too;
For I know I shall stick i’ th’ mire. If ye see us close once,
Be gone, and leave me to my fortune, suddenly,
For I am then determined to do wonders.
Farewell, and fling an old shoe. How my heart throbs!
Would I were drunk! Farewell, Pinac! Heaven send us
A joyful and a merry meeting, man!

Pinac. Farewell,
And cheer thy heart up! and remember, Belleur,
They are but women.

Bel. I had rather they were lions.

Mir. About it; I’ll be with you instantly.—

[Exeunt Belleur and Pinac.


Shall I ne’er be at rest? no peace of conscience?
No quiet for these creatures? am I ordain’d
To be devour’d quick by these she-cannibals?
Here’s another they call handsome; I care not for her,
I ne’er look after her: When I am half tippled,
It may be I should turn her, and peruse her;
Or, in my want of women, I might call for her;
But to be haunted when I have no fancy,
No maw to th’ matter—Now! why do you follow me?

Ori. I hope, sir, ’tis no blemish to my virtue:
Nor need you, out of scruple, ask that question,
If you remember you, before you travel,
The contract you tied to me: ’Tis my love, sir,
That makes me seek you, to confirm your memory;
And that being fair and good, I cannot suffer.
I come to give you thanks too.

Mir. For what, pr’ythee?

Ori. For that fair piece of honesty you show’d, sir,
That constant nobleness.

Mir. How? for I am short-headed.

Ori. I’ll tell ye then; for refusing that free offer
Of monsieur Nantolet’s, those handsome beauties,
Those two prime ladies, that might well have prest ye
If not to have broken, yet to have bow’d your promise.
I know it was for my sake, for your faith sake,
You slipt ’em off; your honesty compell’d ye;
And let me tell ye, sir, it show’d most handsomely.

Mir. And let me tell thee, there was no such matter;
Nothing intended that way, of that nature:
I have more to do with my honesty than to fool it,
Or venture it in such leak barks as women.
I put ’em off because I loved ’em not,
Because they are too queasy for my temper,
And not for thy sake, nor the contract sake,
Nor vows nor oaths; I have made a thousand of ’em;
They are things indifferent, whether kept or broken;
Mere venial slips, that grows not near the conscience;
Nothing concerns those tender parts; they are trifles:
For, as I think, there was never man yet hoped for
Either constancy or secrecy from a woman,
Unless it were an ass ordain’d for sufferance;
Nor to contract with such can be a tial!
So let them know again; for ’tis a justice,
And a main point of civil policy,
Whate’er we say or swear, they being reprobates,
Out of the state of faith, we are clear of all sides,
And ’tis a curious blindness to believe us.

Ori. You do not mean this, sure?

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