hat eased,
Though not reposed in that security
As I could wish; well, I must be content,
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Would I had lost this finger at a vent,
So Prospero had ne'er lodged in my house,
Why't cannot be, where there is such resort
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
The sovereign state of chastity unscarr'd,
When such strong motives muster, and make head
Against her single peace? no, no: beware
When mutual pleasure sways the appetite,
And spirits of one kind and quality,
Do meet to parley in the pride of blood.
Well, (to be plain) if I but thought the time
Had answer'd their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold:
Marry, I hope they have not got that start.
For opportunity hath balk'd them yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
To attend the imposition of my heart:
My presence shall be as an iron bar,
'Twixt the conspiring motions of desire,
Yea, every look or glance mine eye objects,
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave,
When he forgets the limits of prescription.

[ENTER BIANCHA WITH HESPERIDA.]

BIA. Sister Hesperida, I pray you fetch down the rose-water
above in the closet: Sweet-heart, will you come in to breakfast?

THO. An she have overheard me now?

[EXIT HESPERIDA.]

BIA. I pray thee, (good Muss) we stay for you.

THO. By Christ, I would not for a thousand crowns.

BIA. What ail you, sweet-heart? are you not well? speak, good
Muss.

THO. Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.

BIA. Oh Jesu!

THO. How now! what!

BIA. Good Lord, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth,
it is this new disease, there's a number are troubled withall for
God's sake, sweet-heart, come in out of the air.

THO. How simple, and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it.
Why true, she heard me all the world to nothing.

BIA. I pray thee, good sweet-heart, come in; the air will do you
harm, in troth.

THO. I'll come to you presently, it will away, I hope.

BIA. Pray God it do.

[EXIT.]

THO. A new disease! I know not, new or old,
But it may well be call'd poor mortals' Plague;
For like a pestilence it doth infect
The houses of the