SCUD. Retain thee so? it is impossible! Art thou not married? 'tis impossible! O no! I do despise thee, and will fly As far on earth as to the Antipodes, And by some learn'd magician, whose deep art Can know thy residence on this hemisphere, There I'll be plac'd, my feet just against thine, To express the opposite nature, which our hearts Must henceforth hold. BEL. O, rather shoot me, friend, Than let me hear thee speak such bitterness! O, pity me! redeem me from the hell, That in this marriage I am like to feel! I'll rather fly to barren wildernesses, And suffer all wants with thee, Scudmore, than Live with all plenty in this husband's arms. Thou shalt perceive I am not such a woman, That is transported with vain dignities. O, thy dear words have knock'd at my heart's gates, And enter'd. They have pluck'd the devil's vizard (That did deform this face, and blind my soul) Off, and thy Bellafront presents herself, Lav'd in a bath of contrite virginal tears: Cloth'd in the original beauty that was thine! Now, for thy love to God, count this not done: Let time go back, and be as when before it, Or from thy memory rase it for ever! SCUD. Ha, ha! heart! was there ever such strange creatures fram'd? Why dost thou speak such foolish, senseless things? Can thy forsaking him redeem thy fault? No, I will never mend an ill with worse. Why, thy example will make women false, When they shall hear it, that before were true; For after ill examples we do fly, But must be vow'd to deeds of piety. O woman, woman, woman, woman, woman! The cause of future and original sin, How happy (had you not) should we have been! False, where you kiss, but murdering in your ire; Love all can woo, know all men you desire: Ungrateful, yet most impudent to crave, Torturous as hell, insatiate as the grave: Lustful as monkeys, grinning in your ease, Whom if we make not idols, we ne'er please: More vainly proud than fools, as ignorant; Baser than parasites: witches that enchant And make us senseless, to think death or life Is yours to give, when only our belief Doth make you able to deceive us so: Begot by drunkards to breed sin and woe; As many foul diseases hide your veins, As there are mischiefs coin'd in your quick brains: Not quick in wit, fit to perform least good, But to subvert whole states, shed seas of blood: Twice as deceitful as are crocodiles, For you betray both ways, with tears and smiles. Yet questionless there are as good, as bad. Hence! let me go.