_Mont._ For one whose wit Lies in a ten pound wastcoat; yet not warm; Ye have travell'd like a Fidler to make faces, And brought home nothing but a case of tooth-picks. You would be married, and no less than Ladies, And of the best sort can serve you; thou Silk-worm, What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman? Name but the poorest piece of man, good manners, There's nothing sound about thee, faith, th'ast none, It lies pawn'd at thy Silk-man's, for so much Lace; Thy credit with his wife cannot redeem it, Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting, Let who will take the t'other, thou wert never christen'd (Upon my conscience) but in Barbers water; Thou art never out o'th' Bason, thou art rotten, And if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt confess it; ---- Thy skin Looks of a Chesnut colour, greaz'd with Amber, All women that on earth do dwell, thou lov'st, Yet none that understand love thee again, But those that love the Spittle; get thee home Poor painted Butter-flie, th[y] Summers past; Go sweat, and eat dry Mutton, thou may'st live To do so well yet; a bruis'd Chamber-Maid May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies. You have your sentence; now it follows Captain, I treat of you. _La-p._ Pray [God] I may deserve it. _Orl._ Beshrew my heart, he speaks plain. _Ami._ That's plain dealing. _Mont._ You are a rascal Captain. _La-p._ A fine Calling. _Mont._ A Water-coward. _Ami._ He would make a pretty stuff. _Mont._ May I speak freely, Madam? _Lami._ Here's none ties you. _Mont._ Why shouldst thou dare come hither with a thought To find a wife here fit for thee? are all Thy single money whores that fed on Carrots, And fill'd the high Grass with familiars Fall'n off to Footmen; prethee tell me truly, For now I know thou dar'st not lie, couldst thou not Wish thy self beaten well with all thy heart now, And out of pain? say that I broke a rib, Or cut thy nose off, wer't not merciful for this ambition? _La-p._ Do your pleasure, Sir, beggars must not be choosers. _Orl._ He longs for beating.