+Fran.+ Last night indeed, incens'd as you were, madam, I fain would know what air so soft and gentle He could have breath'd, would not have blown the flame Higher and higher; but methinks your pillow Should in so many hours have had some power T' allay and mollify: I then complied (He present) with your anger; but now, madam, You must allow me to speak reason t' you In his behalf, before you go too far, And put things in your passion past recal, Which, that once over, you would give your life To have again. +Blan.+ Pray, think me not so tame. +Fran.+ So tame, say you? I think you wild, I swear, To take so much to heart, what at the most Deserves but some such sparkling brisk resentment, As, once flash'd out in a few choleric words, Ought to expire in a next visit's coyness. +Blan.+ Make you so slight of infidelity? +Fran.+ Cupid forbid! I'd have men true to love; But I'd have women, too, true to themselves, And not rebuke their gallants by requiring More than the nature of frail flesh will bear. I'd have men true as steel; but steel, you know, (The purest and best-polish'd steel) will ply, Urg'd from its rectitude, forsooth; but then With a smart spring comes to its place again. +Blan.+ Come, leave your fooling, and speak soberly. +Fran.+ Why then, in sober sadness, you're i' th' wrong-- I do not say in being angry with him, And nettled at the thing--that's natural. We love no partners, even in what we know We cannot keep all to ourselves: but, madam, To think the worse of him for it: or resolve A breach of friendship for a slight excursion, That were a greater fault than his, who has For one excuse long absence; and in truth Another you'd be sorry he wanted--youth. +Blan.+ You talk as if---- +Fran.+ [_interrupting her._] Stay, madam, I beseech you, And let me make an end: I have not yet Touch'd the main point in his excuse, a suit At court, enough I trow for any dog-trick. +Blan.+ How like a goose you talk! a court pretension! What has that to do, one way or other, With his faith to me? +Fran.+ So one, displeased to find his crawfishes Shrivell'd within and empty, said to his cook (Who laid the fault upon the wane o' th' moon): What has the moon to do with crawfishes? Marry, she has, 'tis she that governs shell-fish; And 'tis as true, in courts that love rules business By as preposterous an influence. +Blan.+ I prythee, make an end, or come to th' point.