this notable Exploit?

_Will._ What Exploit, good Madam?

_La Nu._ Why, marrying of a Monster, and an ugly Monster.

_Will._ Yes faith, Child, here stands the bold Knight, that singly, and
unarm'd, designs to enter the List with _Thogogandiga_ the Giant; a good
Sword will defend a worse cause than an ugly Wife. I know no danger
worse than fighting for my Living, and I have don't this dozen years for
Bread.

_La Nu._ This is the common trick of all Rogues, when they have done an
ill thing to face it out.

_Will._ An ill thing-- your Pardon, Sweet-heart, compare it but to
Banishment, a frozen Sentry with brown George and _Spanish_ Pay; and if
it be not better to be Master of a Monster, than Slave to a damn'd
Commonwealth-- I submit-- and since my Fortune has thrown this good in
my way--

_La Nu._ You'll not be so ungrateful to refuse it; besides then you may
hope to sleep again, without dreaming of Famine, or the Sword, two
Plagues a Soldier of Fortune is subject to.

_Will._ Besides Cashiering, a third Plague.

_La Nu._ Still unconcern'd!-- you call me mercenary, but I would starve
e'er suffer my self to be possest by a thing of Horror.

_Will._ You lye, you would by any thing of Horror: yet these things of
Horror have Beauties too, Beauties thou canst not boast of, Beauties
that will not fade; Diamonds to supply the lustre of their Eyes, and
Gold the brightness of their Hair, a well-got Million to atone for
Shape, and Orient Pearls, more white, more plump and smooth, than that
fair Body Men so languish for, and thou hast set such Price on.

_Aria._ I like not this so well, 'tis a trick to make her jealous.

_Will._ Their Hands too have their Beauties, whose very mark finds
credit and respect, their Bills are current o'er the Universe; besides
these, you shall see waiting at my Door, four Footmen, a Velvet Coach,
with Six _Flanders_ Beauties more: And are not these most comely Virtues
in a Soldier's Wife, in this most wicked peaceable Age?

_Luc._ He's poor too, there's another comfort. [Aside.

_Aria._ The most incouraging one I have met with yet.

_Will._ Pox on't, I grow weary of this virtuous Poverty. There goes a
gallant Fellow, says one, but gives him not an Onion; the Women too,
faith, 'tis a handsom Gentleman, but the Devil a Kiss he gets _gratis_.

_Aria._ Oh, how I long to undeceive him of that Error.

_La Nu._ He speaks not of me; sure he knows me not. [Aside.

_Will._ --No, Child, M