ts,
which she can neither law nor claw away; to that, but little flesh, it
were too much else; and that unwholsom too, it were too rich else; and
to all this contempt of what she do's I can laugh at her tears, neglect
her angers, hear her without a faith, so pity her as if she were a
Traytour, moan her person, but deadly hate her pride; if you could do
these, and had but this discretion, and like fortune, it were but an
equal venture.

_Fount._ This is malice.

_Val._ When she lies with your land, and not with you, grows great
with joyntures, and is brought to bed with all the state you have,
you'le find this certain; but is it come to pass you must marry, is
there no buff will hold you?

_Bel._ Grant it be so.

_Val._ Then chuse the tamer evil, take a maid, a maid not worth a
penny; make her yours, knead her, and mould her yours, a maid worth
nothing, there's a vertuous spell in that word nothing; a maid makes
conscience of half a Crown a week for pins and puppits, a maid will be
content with one Coach and two Horses, not falling out because they are
not matches; with one man satisfied, with one rein guided, with one
faith, one content, one bed, aged she makes the wise, preserves the fame
and issue; a widow is a Christmas-box that sweeps all.

_Fount._ Yet all this cannot sink us.

_Val._ You are my friends, and all my loving friends, I spend your
mony, yet I deserve it too, you are my friends still, I ride your
horses, when I want I sell 'em; I eat your meat, help to wear her
linnen, sometimes I make you drunk, and then you seal, for which I'le do
you this commodity, be ruled, and let me try her, I will discover her,
the truth is, I will never leave to trouble her, till I see through her,
then if I find her worthy.

_Hare._ This was our meaning _Valentine_.

_Val._ 'Tis done then, I must want nothing.

_Hare._ Nothing but the woman.

_Val._ No jealousie; for when I marry, the Devil must be wiser than
I take him; and the flesh foolisher: come let's to dinner, and when I am
well whetted with wine, have at her. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Isabella, _and_ Luce.

_Isab._ But art thou sure?

_Luce._ No surer than I heard.

_Hare._ That it was that flouting fellows Brother?

_Luce._ Yes, _Shorthose_ told me so.

_Hare._ He did searc[h] out the truth?

_Luce._ It seems he did.

_Har._ Prethee _Luce_ call him hither, if he be no worse, I
never repent my pity, now sirra, what was he we sent you after, the
Gent