_Neece._ I could curse My attentive powers, for giving entrance to't; There is no boldness like the impudence That's lockt in a fools bloud, how durst you do this? In conscience I abus'd you as sufficiently As woman could a man; insatiate Coxcomb, The mocks and spiteful language I have given thee, Would o' my life ha' serv'd ten reasonable men, And rise contented too, and left enough for their friends. Thou glutton at abuses, never satisfied? I am perswaded thou devour'st more flouts Than all thy body's worth, and still a hungred! A mischief of that maw, prethee seek elsewhere, Introth I am weary of abusing thee; Get thee a fresh Mistriss, thou'st make work enough; I do not think there's scorn enough in Town To serve thy turn, take the Court-Ladies in, And all their Women to 'em, that exceed 'em. _Sir Gr._ Is this in earnest, Lady? _Neece._ Oh unsatiable! Dost thou count all this but an earnest yet? I'd thought I'd paid thee all the whole sum, trust me; Thou'lt begger my derision utterly If thou stay'st longer, I shall want a laugh: If I knew where to borrow a contempt Would hold thee tack, stay and be hang'd, thou shouldst then: But thou'st no conscience now to extort hate from me, When one has spent all she can make upon thee; Must I begin to pay thee hire again? After I have rid thee twice? faith 'tis unreasonable. _Sir Gr._ Say you so? I'll know that presently. [_Exit._ _Neece._ Now he runs To fetch my Uncle to this musty bargain, But I have better ware always at hand. And lay by this still, when he comes to cheapen. _Enter_ Cuningam. _Cun._ I met the Musick now, yet cannot learn What entertainment he receiv'd from her. _Nee._ There's some body set already, I must to't, I see, Well, well, Sir _Gregory_? _Cun._ Hah, _Sir Gregory_? _Nee._ Where e'er you come, you may well boast your conquest. _Cun._ She's lost y'faith, enough, has fortune then Remembred her great boy? she seldom fails 'em. _Nee._ H' was the unlikeliest man at first, methought, To have my love, we never met but wrangled. _Cun._ A pox upon that wrangling, say I still, I never knew it fail yet, where e'er't came; It never comes but like a storm of hail, 'Tis sure to bring fine weather at the tail on't, There's not one match 'mongst twenty made without it, It fights i' th' tongue, but sure to agree i' th' haunches. _Nee._ That man that should ha' told me when time was. I should ha' had him, had been laught at piteously, But see how things will change! _Cun._ Here's a heart feels it--Oh the deceitful promises of love! What trust should a man put i' th' lip of woman? She kist me with that strength, as if sh'ad meant To ha' set the fair print of her soul upon me.