SIR REU. Yes, that's the plague on't. Lose a light-heeled trull-- That in my judgment's nothing; but to lose all Or moiety of that all, or any part at all For a poor nifling[132] toy that's worse than nothing, 'Tis this that nettleth me! I must confess Tinder, that light-skirt, with impetuous heat Sometimes pursu'd me, till that quenchless fire Burst into flames of boundless jealousy, Which cross'd mine humour; for variety Relish'd my palate. Phoenix' brains be rare; But if our dishes had no other fare, They would offend the stomach, and so sate it, As grosser meats would give a better taste: Such was my surfeit to a marriage-bed; My fortunes I prefer before her beauty, Or what may most content the appetite. Money will purchase wenches; but this want-- This roguish thing called want--makes wanton thoughts Look much unlike themselves: 'tis this white metal Enliveneth spirits, knits our arteries Firm as Alcides. He that binds himself Apprentice to his wife merely for love, May he, pen-feathered widgeon, forfeit's freedom, With whatsoe'er is dearest to the vogue Of his affections. She were a rare piece That could engage me, or oblige me hers With all those ceremonial rites which Flamens use To Hymen's honour. Beauty, still say I, Will breed a surfeit, be it ne'er so choice Nor eye-attractive. I should choose a grave Before one mistress all mine interest have. O my alimony, alimony! this is the goad that only prickles me. PLA. Those be your husbands, ladies;--how pitifully they look? LADIES. Alas, poor cuckolds! KNIGHTS. Ladies, we were sometimes your husbands. [_These Platonics discover the Knights, and scornfully eye them._ LADIES. True, You were so: but your known defects have raz'd That style of wedlock, and enfranchis'd us From that tyrannic yoke. We're now our own; Nor shall our beds by you be henceforth known. SIR AMA. What have I done? FRI. Nothing, Sir Amadin. And that's sufficient to divide us two. Your puny years must grow in strength and sinews To prove you man, before you can partake In my enjoyments; the court has so decreed, And by resentment of that injury Your blooming youth, unripened for delight, Has done to me, your hapless virgin bride, Held fit to number me amongst these ladies, All different sufferers; and for supportance (As everything, you know, would gladly live) Allots us alimony. FLO. So his score is paid. [_Aside._ SIR JAS. Madam, look on Sir Jasper. CAV. Honest simpleton, And so I will, just as the fowler is wont On a catch'd dottrel; till your wasted brain Rise to more growth, I from my widow'd bed Will rise untouch'd: these breasts shall never give Their nursing teats unto a brood of fools. CAR. So, good Sir Jasper, you've your doom in folio.[133] [_Aside._ SIR ART. Receive me, dear Julippe.