+Ban.+ Well, madam, I shall fit you. I do know A choleric lady which, within these three weeks, Has, for not cutting her corns well, put off Three women; and is now about to part With the fourth--just one of your description. Next change o' th' moon or weather, when her feet Do ache again, I do believe I shall Pleasure your ladyship. +Aur.+ Expect your reward. [_Exit +Bannswright+._ SCENE III. _Enter +Bright+, +Newcut+, +Timothy+, +Plotwell+._ +Tim.+ Lady, let me taste the Elysium of your lips. +Aur.+ Why, what are you? You will not leap me, sir? Pray, know your distance. +Tim.+ What am I, sweet lady? My father is an alderman's fellow; and I Hope to be one in time. +Aur.+ Then, sir, in time You may be remembered at the quenching of Fir'd houses, when the bells ring backward,[204] by Your name upon the buckets.[205] +Tim.+ Nay, they say You have a good wit, lady, and I can find it As soon as another. I in my time have been O' th' university, and should have been a scholar. +Aur.+ By the size of your wit, sir, had you kept To that profession, I can foresee You would have been a great persecutor of nature And great consumer of rush candles, with As small success as if a tortoise should Day and night practise to run races. Having Contemplated yourself into ill-looks, In pity to so much affliction, You might ha' pass'd for learned; and't may be, If you had fallen out with the Muses, and 'Scap'd poetry, you might have risen to scarlet. +Tim.+ Here's a rare lady with all my heart. By this Light, gentlemen, now have I no more language Than a dumb parrot. A little more, she'll jeer me Into a fellow that turns upon his toe In a steeple, and strikes quarters![206] +Bright.+ And why should you Be now so dainty of your lips? Verily, They are not virgins: they have tasted man. +Aur.+ And may again; but then I'll be secur'd For the sweet air o' th' parties. If you Will bring it me confirm'd under the hands Of four sufficient ladies, that you are Clean men, you may chance kiss my woman. +New.+ Lady, Our lips are made of the same clay that yours [are,] And have not been refused. +Aur.+ 'Tis right, you are Two inns-of-court men. +Bright.+ Yes, what then? +Aur.+ Known Cladders[207] Through all the town. +Bright.+ Cladders? +Aur.+ Yes, catholic lovers, From country madams to your glover's wife, Or laundress;[208] will not let poor gentlewomen Take physic quietly, but disturb their pills From operation with your untaught visits; Or, if they be employ'd, contrive small plots Below stairs with the chambermaid; commend Her fragrant breath, which five yards off salutes, At four deflow'rs a rose, at three kills spiders. +New.+ What dangerous truths these are!