MAID. Nay, perhaps taught her: many of those husbands Are base enough to live upon't. INGEN. I have seen another of 'em Cheat, by this light, at cards, and set her women To talk to the gentlemen that play'd, That, so distracted, they might oversee. MAID. O, fie upon ye! I dare swear you lie. INGEN. Do not, fair mistress; you will be forsworn. MAID. You men are all foul-mouth'd: I warrant, you Talk thus of me and other ladies here Because we keep the city. INGEN. O, profane! That thought would damn me. Will you marry yet? MAID. No, I will never marry. INGEN. Shall we then Couple unlawfully? for indeed this marrying Is but proclaiming what we mean to do; Which may be done privately in civil sort, And none the wiser; and by this white hand, The rack, strappado, or the boiling boot[76] Should never force me tell to wrong your honour. MAID. May I believe this? INGEN. Let it be your creed. MAID. But if you should prove false? Nay, ne'er unhang Your sword, except you mean to hang yourself. Why, where have you been drinking? 'sfoot, you talk Like one of these same rambling boys that reign In Turnbull Street.[77] INGEN. How do you know? MAID. Indeed, my knowledge is but speculative, Not practic there; I have it by relation From such observers as yourself, dear servant. I must profess I did think well of thee, But get thee from my sight, I never more Will hear or see thee, but will hate thee deadly, As a man-enemy, or a woman turn'd. Ladies, come forth. _Enter_ WIDOW, WIFE. See, sir, what courtesy You have done to me: a strange praise of you Had newly left my lips just as you enter'd, And how you have deserv'd it with your carriage! Villain! thou hast hurt mine honour to these friends, For what can they imagine but some ill Hath pass'd betwixt us by thy broad discourse? Were my case theirs, by virgin chastity, I should condemn them. Hence! depart my sight! INGEN. Madam, but hear me. O, that these were men, And durst but say or think you ill for this! I have so good a cause upon my side That I would cut their hearts out of their breasts, And the thoughts out of them that injur'd you. But I obey your hest, and for my penance Will run a course never to see you more: And now I lose you, may I lose the light, Since in that beauty dwelt my day or night. [_Exit_ INGEN. WID. Is this the virtuous youth? WIFE. Your happiness? WID. Wherein you thought your seat so far[78] 'bove ours. MAID. If one man could be good, this had been he. See, here come all your suitors and your husband; And, room for laughter! here's the Lord Feesimple. What gentlewoman does he bring along?