FORE. How! I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr. Tattle. Pray, what do you know? TATT. Why, d’ye think I’ll tell you, sir? Read it in my face? No, sir, ’tis written in my heart; and safer there, sir, than letters writ in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I am no blab, sir. VAL. Acquaint Jeremy with it, he may easily bring it about. They are welcome, and I’ll tell ’em so myself. [_To_ SCANDAL.] What, do you look strange upon me? Then I must be plain. [_Coming up to them_.] I am Truth, and hate an old acquaintance with a new face. [SCANDAL _goes aside with_ JEREMY.] TATT. Do you know me, Valentine? VAL. You? Who are you? No, I hope not. TATT. I am Jack Tattle, your friend. VAL. My friend, what to do? I am no married man, and thou canst not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money of me. Then what employment have I for a friend? TATT. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret. ANG. Do you know me, Valentine? VAL. Oh, very well. ANG. Who am I? VAL. You’re a woman. One to whom heav’n gave beauty, when it grafted roses on a briar. You are the reflection of heav’n in a pond, and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, a sheet of lovely, spotless paper, when you first are born; but you are to be scrawled and blotted by every goose’s quill. I know you; for I loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found out a strange thing: I found out what a woman was good for. TATT. Ay, prithee, what’s that? VAL. Why, to keep a secret. TATT. O Lord! VAL. Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for though she should tell, yet she is not to be believed. TATT. Hah! good again, faith. VAL. I would have music. Sing me the song that I like. SONG Set by MR. FINGER. I tell thee, Charmion, could I time retrieve, And could again begin to love and live, To you I should my earliest off’ring give; I know my eyes would lead my heart to you, And I should all my vows and oaths renew, But to be plain, I never would be true. II. For by our weak and weary truth, I find, Love hates to centre in a point assign’d? But runs with joy the circle of the mind. Then never let us chain what should be free, But for relief of either sex agree, Since women love to change, and so do we. No more, for I am melancholy. [_Walks musing_.] JERE. I’ll do’t, sir. [_To_ SCANDAL.] SCAN. Mr. Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, and do mischief. FORE. I will be directed by you. JERE. [_To_ MRS. FRAIL.] You’ll meet, madam? I’ll take care everything shall be ready. MRS. FRAIL. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee nothing. TATT. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [_To_ ANGELICA.]