_Mis._ Bragge not too fast! for all this glorious speech, Is but a painted Pageant, made to vsher Some homely Scauenger, and is borne vp, Vpon the backes of Porters. It wants true worth, To carrie State, and vsher learned Iudgement Into this Court. For what a foolish reason, Is it to say, Lust tempteth garish Beautie, Because men court their wanton Mistresses, In sundry formes of Complement? There’s not A Citie Tradesman throughout all the Streets, From the East Chappell, to the Westerne Palace, But knowes full well the garish setting out Of Beautie in their shops, will call in Customers To cheapen ware: Beautie set forth to sale, Wantons the bloud, and is mans tempting Stale. _1. Law._ How boldly he comes on? _2. Law._ But marke his reasons. _Mis._ And this is woman, who well knowes her strength, And trimmes her Beautie forth in blushing Pride, To draw as doth the wanton Morning Sunne, The eyes of men to gaze. But marke their natures, And from their Cradles you shall see them take Delight in making Babies, deuising Christnings, Bidding of Gossips, calling to Vp-sittings, And then to Festiuals, and solemne Churchings, In imitation of the wanton ends, Their riper yeeres will ayme at. But goe further, And looke vpon the very Mother of Mischiefe, Who as her Daughters ripen, and doe bud Their youthfull Spring, straight she instructs them how To set a glosse on Beautie, adde a lustre To the defects of Nature, how to vse The mysterie of Painting, Curling, Powdring, And with strange Periwigs, pin knots, Bordrings, To deck them vp like to a Vintners Bush, For men to gaze at on a Midsummer Night, _1. Law._ The tyde begins to turne. _2. Law._ Women goe downe. _Mis._ This done, they are instructed by like Art, How to giue entertainment, and keepe distance With all their Sutors, Friends, and Fauourites, When to deny, and when to feed their hopes, Now to draw on, and then againe put off, To frowne and smile, to weepe and laugh out-right, All in a breath, and all to trayne poore man Into his ruine: Nay, by Art they know How to forme all their gesture, how to adde A _Venus_ Mole on euery wanton cheeke, To make a gracefull dimple when she laughes: And (if her teeth be bad) to lispe and simper, Thereby to hide that imperfection: And these once learn’d, what wants the Tempter now, To snare the stoutest Champion of men? Therefore, graue Iudges, let me thus conclude: Man tempts not woman, woman doth him delude. _A Plaudite by the Men with shouts, crying_, Misogynos, Misogynos, Misogynos! _1. Law._ Women, looke to’t, the Fencer giues you a veney. _2. Law._ Beleeue it, he hits home.