Enter PIERRE and AQUILINA
Aquil. By all thy wrongs, thourt dearer to my arms
Than all the wealth of Venice: prithee stay,
And let us
Pierr. No: theres fool,
Theres fool about thee: when a woman sells
Her flesh to fools, her beautys lost to
They leave a taint, a sully where theyve past,
Theres such a baneful quality about em,
complexions with their own nauseousness.
They infect all they touch; I cannot think
Of tasting anything a
fool has palled.
Aquil. I loathe and scorn that fool thou meanst, as much
Or more than thou canst; but the beast has
That makes him necessary: power too,
To qualify my character, and poise me
Equal with peevish
virtue, that beholds
My liberty with envy: in their hearts
Are loose as I am; but an ugly power
Sits in their
faces, and frights pleasures from em.
Pierr. Much good mayt do you, madam, with your Senator.
Aquil. My Senator! why, canst thou think that wretch
Eer filled thy Aquilinas arms with pleasure?
thou, because I sometimes give him leave
To foil himself at what he is unfit for;
Because I force myself to
endure and suffer him,
Thinkst thou I love him? No, by all the joys
Thou ever gavst me, his presence is
The worst thing an old man can bes a lover,
A mere memento mori to poor woman.
lay by his decrepit side,
But all that night I pondered on my grave.
Pierr. Would he were sent thither!
Aquil. Thats my wish too:
For then, my Pierre, I might have cause with pleasure
To play the hypocrite: oh!
how I could weep
Over the dying dotard, and kiss him too,
In hopes to smother him quite; then, when the
Was come to pay my sorrows at his funeral,
For hes already made me heir to treasures,
me out-act a real widows whining:
How could I frame my face to fit my mourning,
With wringing hands
attend him to his grave,
Fall swooning on his hearse: take mad possession
Even of the dismal vault where
he lay buried,
There like the Ephesian matron dwell, till thou,
My lovely soldier, comst to my deliverance;
throwing up my veil, with open arms
And laughing eyes, run to new-dawning joy.
Pierr. No more! I have friends to meet me here to-night,
And must be private. As you prize my friendship
up your coxcomb: let him not pry nor listen
Nor fisk about the house as I have seen him,
Like a tame mumping
squirrel with a bell on;
Curs will be abroad to bite him if you do.
Aquil. What friends to meet? may I not be of your council?
Pierr. How! a woman ask questions out of bed?
Go to your Senator, ask him what passes
brethren, hell hide nothing from you;
But pump not me for politics. No more!
Give order that whoever in
Comes here, receive admittance: so good-night.
Aquil. Must we neer meet again! Embrace no more!
Is love so soon and utterly forgotten!
Pierr. As you henceforward treat your fool, Ill think ont.
Aquil. Curst be all fools, and doubly curst myself,
The worst of foolsI die if he forsakes me;
And now to
keep him, heaven or hell instruct me.