_Flo_. Bless us! let us be gone, cousin: We two are nothing in his hands. _Cel_. Yet, for my part, I can live with as few mistresses as any man. I desire no superfluities; only for necessary change or so, as I shift my linen. _Flo_. A pretty odd kind of fellow this; he fits my humour rarely. [_Aside_. _Fla_. You are as inconstant as the moon. _Flo_. You wrong him, he's as constant as the sun; he would see all the world in twenty-four hours. _Cel_. 'Tis very true, madam; but, like him, I would visit, and away. _Flo_. For what an unreasonable thing it were, to stay long, be troublesome, and hinder a lady of a fresh lover. _Cel_. A rare creature this! [_Aside_]--Besides, madam, how like a fool a man looks, when, after all his eagerness of two minutes before, he shrinks into a faint kiss, and a cold compliment.--Ladies both, into your hands I commit myself; share me betwixt you. _Fla_. I'll have nothing to do with you, since you cannot be constant to one. _Cel_. Nay, rather than lose either of you, I'll do more; I'll be constant to an hundred of you. Or, if you will needs fetter me to one, agree the matter between yourselves; and the most handsome take me. _Flo_. Though I am not she, yet since my mask is down, and you cannot convince me, have a good faith of my beauty, and for once I take you for my servant. _Cel_. And for once I'll make a blind bargain with you. Strike hands; is't a match, mistress? _Flo_. Done, servant. _Cel_. Now I am sure I have the worst on't: For you see the worst of me, and that I do not of you, 'till you shew your face.--Yet, now I think on't, you must be handsome. _Flo_. What kind of beauty do you like? _Cel_. Just such a one as yours. _Flo_. What's that? _Cel_. Such an oval face, clear skin, hazel eyes, thick brown eye-brows, and hair as you have, for all the world. _Fla_. But I can assure you, she has nothing of all this. _Cel_. Hold thy peace, envy; nay, I can be constant an I set on't. _Flo_. 'Tis true she tells you. _Cel_. Ay, ay, you may slander yourself as you please: Then you have,--let me see. _Flo_. Ill swear, you shall not see. _Cel_. A turned up nose, that gives an air to your face:--Oh, I find I am more and more in love with you!--a full nether lip, an out-mouth, that makes mine water at it; the bottom of your cheeks a little blub, and two dimples when you smile: For your stature, 'tis well; and for your wit, 'twas given you by one that knew it had been thrown away upon an ill face.--Come, you're handsome, there's no denying it. _Flo_. Can you settle your spirits to see an ugly face, and not be frighted? I could find in my heart to lift up my mask, and disabuse you. _Cel_. I defy your mask:--Would you would try the experiment! _Flo_. No, I won't; for your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me. _Cel_. Since you will not take the pains to convert me, I'll make bold to keep my faith. A miserable man, I am sure, you have made me. _Fla_. This is pleasant.