MAID. A widow is a garment worn threadbare, Selling at second-hand, like broker's ware. But let us speak of things the present time Makes happy to us, and see what is best. I have a servant then, the crown of men, The fountain of humanity, the prize Of every virtue, moral and divine; Young, valiant, learned, well-born, rich, and shap'd, As if wise Nature, when she fashion'd him, Had meant to give him nothing but his form; Yet all additions are conferr'd on him, That may delight a woman: this same youth To me hath sacrific'd his heart, yet I Have check'd his suit, laugh'd at his worthy service, Made him the exercise of my cruelty, Whilst constant as the sun, for all these clouds, His love goes on. _Enter_ INGEN. WID. Peace, here's the man you name. WIFE. Widow, we'll stand aside. INGEN. Good morrow to the glory of our age, The Lady Perfect and the Lady Bright, [_Meeting the Wife and Widow._[75] The virtuous wife and widow; but to you, The Lady Honour and my mistress, The happiness of your wishes. MAID. By this light, I never heard one speak so scurvily, Utter such stale wit, and pronounce so ill. "But to you, my Lady Honour and my mistress, The happiness of your wishes!" INGEN. Stop your wit; You would fain show these ladies, what a hand You hold over your servant: 't shall not need; I will express your tyranny well enough, I have lov'd this lady since I was a child, Since I could construe _Amo:_ now she says I do not love her, 'cause I do not weep, Lay mine arms o'er my heart, and wear no garters, Walk with mine eyes in my hat, sigh and make faces For all the poets in the town to laugh at. Pox o' this howling love! 'tis like a dog Shut out at midnight. Must love needs be powder'd, Lie steep'd in brine, or will it not keep sweet? Is it like beef in summer? MAID. Did you ever Hear one talk fustian like a butcher thus? INGEN. 'Tis foolish, this same telling folks we love: It needs no words, 'twill show itself in deeds; And did I take you for an entertainer, A lady that will wring one by the finger, Whilst on another's toes she treads, and cries "By gad, I love but one, and you are he," Either of them thinking himself the man, I'd tell you in your ear, put for the business, Which granted or denied, "Madam, God be wi' ye." MAID. Come, these are daily slanders that you raise On our infirm and unresisting sex: You never met, I'm sure, with such a lady. INGEN. O, many, by this light. I've seen a chamber Frequented like an office of the law: Clients succeed at midnight one another, Whilst the poor madam hath been so distress'd Which of her lovers to show most countenance to, That her dull husband has perceiv'd her wiles.