BOUT. No. TAF. Then fare you well. BOUT. Who 'gins to love, needs not a second hell. [_Exit_ BOUTCHER. _Enter_ ADRIANA. TAF. Adriana, makes he no stay? ADRI. Mistress? TAF. I pray thee see if he have left the house. Peep close; see, but be not seen: is he gone? ADRI. No; he has made a stand. TAF. I prythee, keep close. ADRI. Nay, keep you close, y' had best. TAF. What does he now? ADRI. Now he retires.[343] _Re-enter_ BOUTCHER [_below_]. BOUT. O you much partial gods! Why gave you men affections, and not[344] power To govern them? what I by fate should shun, I most affect--a widow, a widow. TAF. Blows the wind there? ADRI. Ha, ha! he's in, i' faith: Y' have drawn him now within your purlieus, mistress. BOUT. Tut, I will not love! my rational And better parts shall conquer blind affections: Let passion children or weak women sway. My love shall to my judgment still obey. [_Exit._ TAF. What does he now? ADRI. He's gone. TAF. Gone! Adriana? ADRI. He went his way, and never look'd behind him. TAF. Sure, he's taken? ADRI. A little sing'd or so: Each thing must have beginning; men must prepare, Before they can come on, and show their loves In pleasing sorts: the man must do in time; For love, good mistress, is much like to wax-- The more 'tis rubb'd, it sticks the faster to; Or, like a bird in bird-lime or a pit-fall, The more he labours, still the deeper in. TAF. Come, thou must help me now; I have a trick To second this beginning, and in the nick To strike it dead, i' faith. Women must woo, When men forget what nature leads them to. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ THROAT _the lawyer from his study; books and_ _bags of money on a table, a chair and cushion_. THROAT. Chaste Phoebe, _splende_; there's that left yet, Next to my book, _claro micante auro_. Ay, that's the soul of law; that's it, that's it, For which the buckram-bag must trudge all weathers, Though scarcely fill'd with one poor replication. How happy are we, that we joy the law So freely as we do: not bought and sold, But clearly given, without all base extorting: Taking but bare ten angels for a fee, Or upward. To this renown'd estate Have I by indirect and cunning means Enwoven myself, and now can scratch it out: Thrust at a bar, and cry _My lord_ as loud As e'er a listed gownman of them all. I never plead before the honour'd bench: But _bench right-worshipful of peaceful justices_ _And country gentlemen_: and yet I've found Good gettings, by the mass; besides odd cheats, Will Small-shank's lands, and many garboils[345] more, Dash! _Enter_ DASH.