[Val.] It may be, but these excuse not.

Wid. Nor yours force no truth Sir, what deadly tongues you have, and to those tongues what hearts, and what inventions?  O’ my conscience, and ’twere not for sharp justice, you would venture to aim at your own mothers, and account it glorie to say you had done so:  all you think are counsels, and cannot erre, ’tis we still that shew double, giddy, or gorg’d with passion; we that build Babels for mens conclusions, we that scatter, as day does his warm light; our killing curses over Gods creatures, next to the devils malice:  lets intreat your good words.

Val. Well, this woman has a brave soul.

Wid. Are not we gaily blest then, and much beholding to you for your substance? you may do what you list, we what beseems us, and narrowly do that too, and precisely, our names are served in else at Ordinaries, and belcht abroad in Taverns.

Val. O most brave Wench, and able to redeem an age of women.

Wid. You are no Whoremasters?  Alas, no, Gentlemen, it were an impudence to think you vicious:  you are so holy, handsome Ladies fright you, you are the cool things of the time, the temperance, meer Emblems of the Law, and veils of Vertue, you are not daily mending like Dutch Watches, and plastering like old Walls; they are not Gentlemen, that with their secret sins increase our Surgeons, and lie in Foraign Countries, for new sores; Women are all these Vices; you are not envious, false, covetous, vain-glorious, irreligious, drunken, revengeful, giddie-eyed like Parrots, eaters of others honours.

Val. You are angry.

Wid. No by my troth, and yet I could say more too, for when men make me angry, I am miserable.

Val. Sure ’tis a man, she could not bear it thus bravely else, it may be I am tedious.

Wid. Not at all, Sir, I am content at this time you should trouble me.

Val. You are distrustful.

Wid. Where I find no truth, Sir.

Val. Come, come, you are full of passion.

Wid. Some I have, I were too near the nature o’ God else.

Val. You are monstrous peevish.

Wid. Because they are monstrous foolish, and know not how to use that should try me.

Val. I was never answered thus; were you never drunk Lady?

Wid. No sure, not drunk, Sir; yet I love good Wine, as I love health and joy of heart, but temperately, why do you ask that question?

Val. For that sin that they most charge you with, is this sin’s servant, they say you are monstrous—­

Wid. What, Sir, what?

Pal. Most strangely.

Wid. It has a name sure?

Pal. Infinitely lustful, without all bounds, they swear you kill’d your Husband.

Wid. Let us have it all for Heavens sake, ’tis good mirth, Sir.