_Olin_. No matter, let him rail; does the loss afflict you, sir? _Cel_. No, in faith, does it not; for if you had not forsaken me, I had you: So the willows may flourish, for any branches I shall rob 'em of. _Sab_. However, we have the advantage to have left you; not you us. _Cel_. That's only a certain nimbleness in nature, you women have, to be first inconstant; but if you had not made the more haste, the wind was veering too upon my weathercock: The best on't is, Florimel is worth both of you. _Flo_. 'Tis like she'll accept of their leavings. _Cel_. She will accept on't, and she shall accept on't: I think I know more than you of her mind, sir. _Enter_ MELISSA. _Mel_. Daughters, there's a poor collation within, that waits for you. _Flo_. Will you walk, musty sir? _Cel_. No, marry, sir, I will not; I have surfeited of that old woman's face already. _Flo_. Begin some frolic, then; what will you do for her? _Cel_. Faith, I am no dog, to show tricks for her; I cannot come aloft to an old woman. _Flo_. Dare you kiss her? _Cel_. I was never dared by any man. By your leave, old madam-- [_He plucks off her ruff_. _Mel_. Help! help! do you discover my nakedness? _Cel_. Peace, Tiffany! no harm! [_He puts on the ruff_.] Now, Sir, here's Florimel's health to you. [_Kisses her_. _Mel_. Away, sir!--A sweet young man as you are, to abuse the gift of nature so! _Cel_. Good mother, do not commend me so; I am flesh and blood, and you do not know what you may pluck upon that reverend person of yours.--Come on, follow your leader. [_Gives_ FLORIMEL _the ruff; she puts it on_. _Flo_. Stand fair, mother-- _Cel_. What, with your hat on? Lie thou there;--and thou, too-- [_Plucks off her hat and peruke, and discovers_ FLORIMEL. _All_. Florimel! _Flo_. My kind mistresses, how sorry I am, I can do you no further service! I think I had best resign you to Celadon, to make amends for me. _Cel_. Lord! what a misfortune it was, ladies, that the gentleman could not hold forth to you? _Olin_. We have lost Celadon too. _Mel_. Come away; this is past enduring. [_Exeunt_ MEL. _and_ OLIN. _Sab_. Well, if ever I believe a man to be a man, for the sake of a peruke and feather again.-- _Flo_. Come, Celadon, shall we make accounts even? Lord! what a hanging-look was there? indeed, if you had been recreant to your mistress, or had forsworn your love, that sinner's face had been but decent; but, for the virtuous, the innocent, the constant Celadon! _Cel_. This is not very heroic in you now, to insult over a man in his misfortunes; but take heed, you have robb'd me of my two mistresses; I shall grow desperately constant, and all the tempest of my love will fall upon your head: I shall so pay you!-- _Flo_. Who, you pay me! you are a bankrupt, cast beyond all possibility of recovery. _Cel_. If I am a bankrupt, I'll be a very honest one; when I cannot pay my debts, at least I'll give you up the possession of my body.