_Fid._ Then not to fool you, sir, I spoke to her for you, but prevailed for myself; she would not hear me when I spoke in your behalf, but bid me say what I would in my own, though she gave me no occasion, she was so coming, and so was kinder, sir, than you could wish; which I was only afraid to let you know, without some warning. _Man._ How's this? Young man, you are of a lying age; but I must hear you out, and if-- _Fid._ I would not abuse you, and cannot wrong her by any report of her, she is so wicked. _Man._ How, wicked! had she the impudence, at the second sight of you only-- _Fid._ Impudence, sir! oh, she has impudence enough to put a court out of countenance, and debauch a stews. _Man._ Why, what said she? _Fid._ Her tongue, I confess, was silent; but her speaking eyes gloated such things, more immodest and lascivious than ravishers can act, or women under a confinement think. _Man._ I know there are those whose eyes reflect more obscenity than the glasses in alcoves; but there are others too who use a little art with their looks, to make 'em seem more beautiful, not more loving; which vain young fellows like you are apt to interpret in their own favour, and to the lady's wrong. _Fid._ Seldom, sir. Pray, have you a care of gloating eyes; for he that loves to gaze upon 'em, will find at last a thousand fools and cuckolds in 'em instead of cupids. _Man._ Very well, sir.--But what, you had only eye-kindness from Olivia? _Fid._ I tell you again, sir, no woman sticks there; eye-promises of love they only keep; nay, they are contracts which make you sure of 'em. In short, sir, she seeing me, with shame and amazement dumb, unactive, and resistless, threw her twisting arms about my neck, and smothered me with a thousand tasteless kisses. Believe me, sir, they were so to me. _Man._ Why did you not avoid 'em then? _Fid._ I fenced with her eager arms, as you did with the grapples of the enemy's fireship; and nothing but cutting 'em off could have freed me. _Man._ Damned, damned woman, that could be so false and infamous! and damned, damned heart of mine, that cannot yet be false, though so infamous! what easy, tame suffering trampled things does that little god of talking cowards make of us! but-- _Fid._ So; it works, I find, as I expected. [_Aside._ _Man._ But she was false to me before, she told me so herself, and yet I could not quite believe it; but she was, so that her second falseness is a favour to me, not an injury, in revenging me upon the man that wronged me first of her love. Her love! a whore's, a witch's love!--But what, did she not kiss well, sir?--I'm sure I thought her lips--but I must not think of 'em more--but yet they are such I could still kiss--grow to--and then tear off with my teeth, grind 'em into mammocks,[121] and spit 'em into her cuckold's face. _Fid._ Poor man, how uneasy he is! I have hardly the heart to give so much pain, though withal I give him cure, and to myself new life. [_Aside._