+Phil.+ Pray, fool yourself no farther: twice you have sway'd me; Twice have I tried her; and 'tis not yet, ye know, Ten days since our reconciliation. How will it show in you, so near a kinsman To the duke? nay, having woven yourself into The close-wrought mystery of opinion, Where you remain a soldier, a man Of brain and quality, to put your friend Again on such a business, and to expose Your fair wife to the tempest of temptation? And, by the white, unspotted cheek of truth, She is---- +Lor.+ A woman. +Phil.+ A good woman. +Lor.+ Pish! +Phil.+ As far from your distrust, as bad ones are from truth. She is in love with virtue: would not boast it, But that her whole life is a well-writ story. Where each word stands so well-plac'd, that it passes Inquisitive detraction to correct. She's modest, but not sullen, and loves silence; Not that she wants apt words, for, when she speaks, She inflames love with wonder; but because She calls wise silence the soul's harmony. She's truly chaste; yet such a foe to coyness, The poorest call her courteous; and which is excellent, Though fair and young, she shuns t' expose herself To the opinion of strange eyes. She either seldom Or never walks abroad but in your company; And then with such sweet bashfulness, as if She were venturing on crack'd ice; and takes delight To step into the print your foot hath made, And will follow you whole fields: so she will drive Tediousness out of time with her sweet character. And therefore, good my friend, forbear to try The gold has pass'd the fire. +Lor.+ Thou foolish friend, Beauty, like the herb larix, is cool i' th' water, But hot i' th' stomach. Women are smooth flatterers, But cunning injurers. +Phil.+ Thou wondrous yellow friend. Temper an antidote with antimony, And 'tis infectious: mix jealousy with marriage, It poisons virtue: let the child feel the sting, He'll fly the honeycomb. Has she one action That can expose you to distrust? +Lor.+ O, when the Alexanders-leaf looks most green, The sap is then most bitter. An approv'd appearance Is no authentic instance: she that is lip-holy Is many times heart-hollow. Here she comes, _Enter +Abstemia+._ A prayer-book in her hand! O hypocrisy! How fell'st thou first in love with woman? wilt try again, But this one time? +Phil.+ Condition'd you will stand Ear-witness to our conference; that you may take In at your ear a virtue that will teach Your erring soul to wonder. +Lor.+ He would wittol me With a consent to my own horns. I will. I'll give thee a new occasion: there lurks In woman's blood a vindicating spirit.