LOVE. Did the vain rascal promise that? CAPT. Yes, but we laugh'd at it. LOVE. So you might; and as I live, if the necklace were come from stringing, I'd send them both to Master Wild, to wear as a favour, to assure him I am his, and to put the vain slave out of countenance. CAPT. Ay, marry, such a timely favour were worth a dozen letters, to assure him of your love, and remove all the doubts the other's discourse may put into his head: and, faith, I'd send him the chain now, and in my letter promise him the necklace: he'll deserve such a favour. LOVE. I'll go in and fetch it immediately: will you favour me to deliver it? CAPT. I'll wait upon your ladyship. LOVE. I'll swear you shall not go in: you know I foreswore being alone with you. [_She goes, and he follows her; she turns, and bids him stay._ CAPT. Hang me, I'll go in. Does my message deserve to wait an answer at the door. LOVE. Ay, but you'll be naught. CAPT. O, ne'er trust me if I break. LOVE. If you break, some such forfeit you'll lose. Well, come in for once. CAPT. You are so suspicious. LOVE. I'll swear I have reason for't: you are such another man. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ WANTON _and_ BAWD. WAN. Is he gone? BAWD. Yes, he's gone to the old lady's, high with mischief. WAN. Fare him well, easy fool: how the trout strove to be tickled! And how does this ring become me, ha! They are fine kind of things, these wedding-rings. [_She plays with the wedding-ring upon her finger._ BAWD. Besides the good custom of putting so much gold in 'em,[215] they bring such conveniences along. WAN. Why, ay; now I have but one to please, and if I please him, who dares offend me? and that wife's a fool that cannot make her husband one. BAWD. Nay, I am absolutely of opinion it was fit for you to marry. But whether he be a good husband or no---- WAN. A pox of a good husband! give me a wise one; they only make the secure cuckolds, the cuckold in grain: for dye a husband that has wit but with an opinion thou art honest, and see who dares wash the colour out. Now your fool changes with every drop, doats with confidence in the morning, and at night jealous even to murder, and his love (Lord help us!) fades like my gredaline petticoat.[216] BAWD. This is a new doctrine.