score,
As one among the rest, she hit on me;
I ask'd her if she could not reckon more,
And pluck'd away my hands to let her see;
But, when she look'd back, and saw me behind her,
She blush'd, and ask'd if it were I did blind her?
And since I sware, both by her mask and fan,
To trust no she-tongue, that can name a man.

ANS. Your great oath hath some exceptions:
But to our former purpose; yon is Mistress Arthur;
We will attempt another kind of wooing,
And make her hate her husband, if we can.

FUL. But not a word of passion or of love;
Have at her now to try her patience.

_Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR.

God save you, mistress!

MRS ART. You are welcome, sir.

FUL. I pray you, where's your husband?

MRS ART. Not within.

ANS. Who, Master Arthur? him I saw even now
At Mistress Mary's, the brave courtesan's.

MRS ART. Wrong not my husband's reputation so;
I neither can nor will believe you, sir.

FUL. Poor gentlewoman! how much I pity you;
Your husband is become her only guest:
He lodges there, and daily diets there,
He riots, revels, and doth all things;
Nay, he is held the Master of Misrule
'Mongst a most loathed and abhorred crew:
And can you, being a woman, suffer this?

MRS ART. Sir, sir! I understand you well enough:
Admit, my husband doth frequent that house
Of such dishonest usage; I suppose
He doth it but in zeal to bring them home
By his good counsel from that course of sin;
And, like a Christian, seeing them astray
In the broad path that to damnation leads,
He useth thither to direct their feet
Into the narrow way that guides to heaven.

ANS. Was ever woman gull'd so palpably! [_Aside_.]
But, Mistress Arthur, think you as you say?

MRS ART. Sir, what I think, I think, and what I say,
I would I could enjoin you to believe.

ANS. Faith, Mistress Arthur, I am sorry for you:
And, in good sooth, I wish it lay in me
To remedy the least part of these wrongs
Your unkind husband daily proffers you.

MRS ART. You are deceived, he is not unkind:
Although he bear an outward face of hate,
His heart and soul are both assured mine.

ANS. Fie, Mistress Arthur! take a better spirit;
Be not so timorous to rehearse your wrongs:
I say, your husband haunts bad company,
Swaggerers, cheaters, wanton courtesans;
There he defiles his body, stains his soul,
Consumes his wealth, undoes himself and you
In danger of diseases, whose vile names
Are not for any honest mouths to speak,
Nor any chaste ears