MED. None; nor ever shall With that sear, suckless kex. MOR. Never was lady So rarely beautifi'd, so highly wrong'd. CAR. What flinty worldling[s] were those friends of yours To value fortunes more than your content! PAL. To prostitute your honour to a clod Of mould'red earth! SAL. And in an icy bed To starve your blooming comforts? TIL. This exceeds All spousal suffering, which preceding times In our Italian stories ever read, Or in their sable annals register'd. FLO. Much of Sir Tristram Shorttool (so I think Men call your husband) have I ofttimes heard, And his penurious humour. But your wrongs Were strangers to me, till your own relation Display'd their quality; which to allay, Nay, quite remove, transmit the care to us And our directions, to supply your wants. We should be just to all, but still retain A bosom-pity to the weaker sex. If we observ'd not this with tenderness, We should not merit this judicial seat, Whereto---- 1ST BOY. These Dabrides rais'd you. [_Aside._ TIL. Now, Madam Tinder, your aggrieves are last. TIN. But not the least. What woman could endure In spousal rights to have a stranger share In her enjoyments? or remain depriv'd Of her propriety by losing those Appropriate dues which nature has ordain'd, And sacred rights approv'd? You see I'm young, And youth expects that tribute which our sex May challenge by descent. ALL. Her plea is good. TIN. Would you not, reverend consuls, hold it strange To see a savage, unconfined bull, When th' pasture's fruitful, and the milk-pail full, And all delights that might content a beast, Range here and there, and break into those grounds Which are less fertile, and where neither shade Affords him umbrage, nor smooth-running brooks Streams to allay his thirst: nay, where the grass, Too strow[129] for fodder, and too rank for pasture, Would generate more fatal maladies Than a whole college of state empirics Or country farriers had art to cure? FLO. Such bullocks, madam, well deserve a baiting. TIL. And beating too! TIN. Yet this is my condition: For marrying one Sir Reuben Scattergood, A person in appearance like enough, And well-dispos'd for aught my watchful eyes Could long discover; but, his father dead, And his revenues by his death swol'n great, His nuptial bed he leaves, and entertains Such mercenary prostitutes as fancy-- His loose-exposed fancy--lur'd him to. CAR. Injurious ribald! PAL. Hateful libertine! TIL. Had she been old, or crook'd, or any way Deform'd. SAL. Or ill-condition'd. MOR. Or averse, When he was active.