BOLD. Faith, madam, heigho! I was (to confess truly) a little foolish in my last service to believe men's oaths, but I hope my example, though prejudicial to myself, will be beneficial to other young gentlewomen in service. My mistress's brother (the gentleman you named even now--Master Bold), having often attempted my honour, but finding it impregnable, vowed love and marriage to me at the last. I, a young thing and raw, being seduced, set my mind upon him, but friends contradicting the match, I fell into a grievous consumption; and upon my first recovery, lest the intended sacred ceremonies of nuptials should succeed, his sister, knowing this, thought it fit in her judgment we should be farther asunder, and so put me out of her service. OMNES. Ha, ha, ha! WID. God-a-mercy for this discovery, i' faith. O man, what art thou when thy cock is up? Come, will your lordship walk in? 'tis dinner-time. _Enter hastily_ SELDOM, _with papers on his arm_. OMNES. Who's this? who's this? MAID. This is our landlord, Master Seldom, an exceeding wise citizen, a very sufficient understanding man, and exceeding rich. OMNES. Miracles are not ceased. WID. Good morrow, landlord. Where have you been sweating? SEL. Good morrow to your honours: thrift is industrious. Your ladyship knows we will not stick to sweat for our pleasures: how much more ought we to sweat for our profits! I am come from Master Ingen this morning, who is married, or to be married; and though your ladyship did not honour his nuptials with your presence, he hath by me sent each of you a pair of gloves, and Grace Seldom, my wife, is not forgot. [_Exit._ OMNES. God give him joy, God give him joy. [_Exeunt._[82] MAID. Let all things most impossible change now! O perjur'd man! oaths are but words, I see. But wherefore should not we, that think we love Upon full merit, that same worth once ceasing, Surcease our love too, and find new desert? Alas! we cannot; love's a pit which, when We fall into, we ne'er get out again: And this same horrid news which me assaults, I would forget: love blanches blackest faults. O, what path shall I tread for remedy But darkest shades, where love with death doth lie! [_Exit._ _Manent_ HUSBAND, WIFE, SUBTLE. WIFE. Sir, I have often heard my husband speak Of your acquaintance. HUS. Nay, my virtuous wife, Had it been but acquaintance, this his absence Had not appear'd so uncouth: but we two Were school-fellows together, born and nurs'd, Brought up, and liv'd since, like the Gemini: Had but one suck: the tavern or the ordinary, Ere I was married, that saw one of us Without the other, said we walk'd by halves. Where, dear--dear friend, have you been all this while?