_Jaff._ May not a man then trifle out an hour With a kind woman, and not wrong his calling? _Pier._ Not in a cause like ours. _Jaff._ Then, friend, our cause Is in a damned condition: for I'll tell thee, That canker-worm called lechery has touched it; 'Tis tainted vilely. Wouldst thou think it, Renault. (That mortified, old, withered, winter-rogue) Loves simple fornication like a priest? I found him out for watering at my wife: He visited her last night, like a kind guardian. Faith, she has some temptations, that's the truth on't. _Pier._ He durst not wrong his trust? _Jaff._ 'Twas something late, though, To take the freedom of a lady's chamber. _Pier._ Was she in bed? _Jaff._ Yes, faith, in virgin sheets White as her bosom, Pierre, dished neatly up, Might tempt a weaker appetite to taste. Oh, how the old fox stunk, I warrant thee, When the rank fit was on him! _Pier._ Patience guide me! He used no violence? _Jaff._ No, no! out on't, violence! Played with her neck, brushed her with his gray beard, Struggled and towzed, tickled her till she squeaked a little, May be, or so--but not a jot of violence. _Pier._ Damn him! _Jaff._ Ay, so say I: but hush, no more on't; All hitherto is well, and I believe Myself no monster,[71] yet: though no man knows What fate he's born to. Sure 'tis near the hour We all should meet for our concluding orders. Will the ambassador be here in person? _Pier._ No; he has sent commission to that villain, Renault, to give the executing charge; I'd have thee be a man, if possible, And keep thy temper; for a brave revenge Ne'er comes too late. _Jaff._ Fear not, I'm cool as patience: Had he completed my dishonour, rather Than hazard the success our hopes are ripe for, I'd bear it all with mortifying virtue. _Pier._ He's yonder coming this way through the hall; His thoughts seem full. _Jaff._ Pr'ythee retire, and leave me With him alone: I'll put him to some trial, See how his rotten part will bear the touching. _Pier._ Be careful then. [_Exit._ _Jaff._ Nay, never doubt, but trust me.-- What, be a devil! take a damning oath For shedding native blood! can there be a sin In merciful repentance? O this villain! _Enter_ RENAULT. _Ren._ Perverse! and peevish! what a slave is man, To let his itching flesh thus get the better of him! Despatch the tool her husband--that were well-- Who's there? _Jaff._ A man. _Ren._ My friend, my near ally! The hostage of your faith, my beauteous charge Is very well. _Jaff._ Sir, are you sure of that? Stands she in perfect health? beats her pulse even? Neither too hot nor cold? _Ren._ What means that question?