_D’Ol._ Tush, tell me not of choice; if I stood affected that way, I would choose my wife as men do Valentines, blindfold, or draw cuts for them, for so I shall be sure not to be deceived in choosing; for take this of me, there’s ten times more deceit in women than in horse-flesh; and I say still, that a pretty well-pac’d chamber-maid is the only fashion; if she grows full or fulsome, give her but sixpence to buy her a hand-basket, and send her the way of all flesh, there’s no more but so. _Mug._ Indeed that’s the savingest way. _D’Ol._ O me! what a hell ’tis for a man to be tied to the continual charge of a coach, with the appurtenances, horses, men, and so forth: and then to have a man’s house pestered with a whole country of guests, grooms, panders, waiting-maids, &c. I careful to please my wife, she careless to displease me; shrewish if she be honest; intolerable if she be wise; imperious as an empress; all she does must be law, all she says gospel: oh, what a penance ’tis to endure her! I glad to forbear still, all to keep her loyal, and yet perhaps when all’s done, my heir shall be like my horse-keeper: fie on’t! the very thought of marriage were able to cool the hottest liver in France. _Rhod._ Well, I durst venture twice the price of your gilt coney’s wool, we shall have you change your copy ere a twelvemonth’s day. _Mug._ We must have you dubb’d o’ th’ order; there’s no remedy: you that have, unmarried, done such honourable service in the commonwealth, must needs receive the honour due to ‘t in marriage. _Rhod._ That he may do, and never marry. _D’Ol._ As how, wits? i’ faith as how? _Rhod._ For if he can prove his father was free o’ th’ order, and that he was his father’s son, then, by the laudable custom of the city, he may be a cuckold by his father’s copy, and never serve for ‘t. _D’Ol._ Ever good i’ faith! _Mug._ Nay how can he plead that, when ’tis as well known his father died a bachelor? _D’Ol._ Bitter, in verity, bitter! But good still in its kind. _Rhod._ Go to, we must have you follow the lantern of your forefathers. _Mug._ His forefathers? S’body, had he more fathers than one? _D’Ol._ Why, this is right: here’s wit canvast out on ‘s coat, into ‘s jacket: the string sounds ever well, that rubs not too much o’ th’ frets: I must love your wits, I must take pleasure in you. Farewell, good wits: you know my lodging, make an errand thither now and then, and save your ordinary; do, wits, do. _Mug._ We shall be troublesome t’ ye. _D’Ol._ O God, sir, you wrong me, to think I can be troubled with wit: I love a good wit as I love myself: if you need a brace or two of crowns at any time, address but your sonnet, it shall be as sufficient as your bond at all times: I carry half a score birds in a cage, shall ever remain at your call. Farewell, wits; farewell, good wits.