_Card._ We are to part from you; and your own discretion Must now be your director. _Ferd._ You are a widow: You know already what man is; and therefore Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence-- _Card._ No, Nor any thing without the addition, honour, Sway your high blood. _Ferd._ Marry! they are most luxurious[108] Will wed twice. _Card._ O, fie! _Ferd._ Their livers are more spotted Than Laban's sheep. _Duch._ Diamonds are of most value, They say, that have passed through most jewellers' hands. _Ferd._ Whores by that rule are precious. _Duch._ Will you hear me? I'll never marry. _Card._ So most widows say; But commonly that motion lasts no longer Than the turning of an hour-glass: the funeral sermon And it end both together. _Ferd._ Now hear me: You live in a rank pasture, here, i' the court; There is a kind of honey-dew that's deadly; 'Twill poison your fame; look to't: be not cunning; For they whose faces do belie their hearts Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, Ay, and give the devil suck. _Duch._ This is terrible good counsel. _Ferd._ Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, Subtler than Vulcan's engine:[109] yet, believe't, Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts, Will come to light. _Card._ You may flatter yourself, And take your own choice; privately be married Under the eves of night-- _Ferd._ Think't the best voyage That e'er you made; like the irregular crab, Which, though't goes backward, thinks that it goes right Because it goes its own way; but observe, Such weddings may more properly be said To be executed than celebrated. _Card._ The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison. _Ferd._ And those joys, Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps Which do fore-run man's mischief. _Card._ Fare you well. Wisdom begins at the end: remember it. [_Exit._ _Duch._ I think this speech between you both was studied, It came so roundly off. _Ferd._ You are my sister; This was my father's poinard, do you see? I'd be loth to see't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. I would have you give o'er these chargeable revels: A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms That were never built for goodness;--fare ye well;-- And women like that part which, like the lamprey, Hath never a bone in't. _Duch._ Fie, sir! _Ferd._ Nay, I mean the tongue; variety of courtship: What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [_Exit._