_Bell._ Such a disease There is in deed, for which ere I would dy.-- _Beau._ Prethee, distinguish me a mayd & wife. _Bell._ Faith, Madam, one may beare any mans children, 45 Tother must beare no mans. _Beau._ What is a husband? _Bell._ Physicke, that tumbling in your belly, will make you sicke ith’ stomacke: the onely distinction betwixt a husband and a seruant is: the first will lye with you, when he please; the last shall lye with you when you please. Pray tell me, 50 Lady, do you loue, to marry after, or would you marry, to loue after. _Beau._ I would meete loue and marriage both at once. _Bell._ Why then you are out of the fashion, and wilbe contemn’d; for (Ile assure you) there are few women i’th world, 55 but either they haue married first, and loue after, or loue first, and marryed after: you must do as you may, not as you would: your fathers will is the Goale you must fly to: if a husband approach you, you would haue further off, is he your loue? the lesse neere you. A husband in these days is but a 60 cloake to bee oftner layde vpon your bed, then in your bed. _Baum._ Humpe. _Bell._ Sometimes you may weare him on your shoulder, now and then vnder your arme: but seldome or neuer let him 65 couer you: for ’tis not the fashion. _Enter y. Nouall_, _Pontalier_, _Malotin_, _Lilladam_, _Aymer_. _Nou._ Best day to natures curiosity, Starre of _Dijum_, the lustre of all _France_, Perpetuall spring dwell on thy rosy cheekes, Whose breath is perfume to our Continent, 70 See _Flora_ turn’d in her varieties. _Bell._ Oh diuine Lord! _Nou._ No autumne, nor no age euer approach This heauenly piece, which nature hauing wrought, She lost her needle and did then despaire, 75 Euer to work so liuely and so faire. _Lilad._ Vds light, my Lord one of the purles of your band is (without all discipline falne) out of his ranke. _Nou._ How? I would not for a 1000 crownes she had seen’t. Deare _Liladam_, reforme it. 80 _Bell._ O Lord: _Per se_, Lord, quintessence of honour, shee walkes not vnder a weede that could deny thee any thing. _Baum._ Prethy peace, wench, thou dost but blow the fire, that flames too much already. 85 _Lilad. Aym. trim Nouall, whilst Bell her Lady._ _Aym._ By gad, my Lord, you haue the diuinest Taylor of Christendome; he hath made you looke like an Angell in your cloth of Tissue doublet. _Pont._ This is a three-leg’d Lord, ther’s a fresh assault, oh that men should spend time thus! 90 See see, how her blood driues to her heart, and straight vaults to her cheekes againe. _Malo._ What are these?