3.3.101580O, ʼtis in vain to write! It will not please.

3.3.111581Ink on this paper would haʼ but presented

3.3.121582The foul black spots that stick upon my soul,

3.3.131583And rather made me loathsomer than wrought

3.3.141584My loveʼs impression in Hippolitoʼs thought.

3.3.151585No, I must turn the chaste leaves of my breast,

3.3.161586And pick out some sweet means to breed my rest.

3.3.171587Hippolito, believe me, I will be

3.3.181588As true unto thy heart as thy heart to thee,

3.3.191589And hate all men, their gifts, and company.

You, Goody Punk, subaudi Cockatrice! O, youʼre a 1592sweet whore of your promise, are you not, think you? How 1593well you came to supper to us last night! Mew, a whore and 1594break her word! Nay, you may blush and hold down your 1595head at it well enough. ʼSfoot, ask these gallants if we stayed 1596not till we were as hungry as sergeants.

Ay, and their yeomen too.

Nay, faith, acquaintance, let me tell you you forgot 1599yourself too much. We had excellent cheer, rare vintage, 1600and were drunk after supper.

And when we were in our woodcocks, sweet 1602rogue, a brace of gulls dwelling here in the city came 1603in and paid all the shot.

Pox on her! Let her alone.

O, I pray do, if you be gentlemen;

3.3.261605I pray depart the house. Beshrew the door

3.3.271606For being so easily entreated! Faith,

3.3.281607I lent but little ear unto your talk;

3.3.291608My mind was busied otherwise, in troth,

3.3.301609And so your words did unregarded pass.

3.3.311610Let this suffice: I am not as I was.

‘I am not what I wasʼ! No, Iʼll be sworn thou art not. 1612For thou wert honest at five, and now thouʼrt a punk at 1613fifteen; thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now thouʼrt a 1614cunning cony-catching baggage today.

Iʼll say Iʼm worse; I pray forsake me then.

3.3.341616I do desire you leave me, gentlemen.

3.3.351617And leave yourselves. O, be not what you are,

3.3.361618Spendthrifts of soul and body!

3.3.371619Let me persuade you to forsake all harlots,

3.3.381620Worse than the deadliest poisons; they are worse,

3.3.391621For oʼer their souls hangs an eternal curse.

3.3.401622In being slaves to slaves, their labours perish;

3.3.411623Theyʼre seldom blest with fruit, for ere it blossoms

3.3.421624Many a worm confounds it.

3.3.431625They have no issue but foul ugly ones

3.3.441626That run along with them eʼen to their graves;

3.3.451627For ʼstead of children they breed rank diseases,

3.3.461628And all you gallants can bestow on them

3.3.471629Is that French infant which neʼer acts but speaks.

3.3.481630What shallow son and heir, then, foolish gallant,

3.3.491631Would waste all his inheritance to purchase

3.3.501632A filthy, loathed disease, and pawn his body

3.3.511633To a dry evil? That usuryʼs worst of all

3.3.521634When thʼinterest will eat out the principal.

[Aside] ʼSfoot, she gulls ʼem the best! This is always 1636her fashion, when she would be rid of any 1637company that she cares not for, to enjoy mine alone.

Whatʼs here? Instructions, admonitions, and 1639caveats? Come out, you scabbard of vengeance.

Fluello, spurn your hounds when they fist; you 1641shall not spurn my punk. I can tell you my blood is vexed.

Pox oʼyour blood! Make it a quarrel.

Youʼre a slave. Will that serve turn?

ʼSblood, hold, hold!

Mattheo, Fluello, for shame, put up!

Spurn my sweet varlet!

Spurn my sweet varlet! O how many, thus

3.3.611648Moved with a little folly, have let out

3.3.621649Their souls in brothel-houses, fell down and died

3.3.631650Just at their harlotʼs foot, as ʼtwere in pride!

Mattheo, we shall meet.

Ay, ay, anywhere, saving at church; pray take heed 1653we meet not there.

[To Bellafront] Adieu, damnation!

[To Bellafront] Adieu, damnation! Cockatrice, farewell!

Thereʼs more deceit in women than in hell.

Ha, ha, thou dost gull ʼem so rarely, so naturally! If 1658I did not think thou hadst been in earnest! Thou art a sweet 1659rogue forʼt, iʼfaith.

Why are not you gone too, Signor Mattheo?

3.3.701661I pray depart my house. You may believe me,

3.3.711662In troth I have no part of harlot in me.

Howʼs this?

Indeed I love you not, but hate you worse

3.3.741665Than any man, because you were the first

3.3.751666Gave money for my soul. You brake the ice

3.3.761667Which after turned a puddle; I was led

3.3.771668By your temptation to be miserable.

3.3.781669I pray seek out some other that will fall;

3.3.791670Or rather, I pray, seek out none at all.

Isʼt possible to be impossible, an honest whore? I 1672have heard many honest wenches turn strumpets with 1673a wet finger; but for a harlot to turn honest is one of 1674Herculesʼ labours. It was more easy for him in one night to 1675make fifty queans than to make one of them honest 1676again in fifty years. Come, I hope thou dost but jest.

ʼTis time to leave off jesting; I had almost

3.3.821678Jested away salvation. I shall love you

3.3.831679If you will soon forsake me.

If you will soon forsake me. God bʼwiʼ thee.

O, tempt no more women! Shun their weighty curse!

3.3.851682Women at best are bad; make them not worse.

3.3.861683You gladly seek our sexʼs overthrow,

3.3.871684But not to raise our states. For all your wrongs

3.3.881685Will you vouchsafe me but due recompense,

3.3.891686To marry with me?

How, marry with a punk, a cockatrice, a 1688harlot? Marry faugh, Iʼll be burnt through the nose first.

Why, la, these are your oaths! You love to undo us,

3.3.921690To put heaven from us, whilst our best hours waste;

3.3.931691You love to make us lewd, but never chaste.

Iʼll hear no more of this, this ground upon:

3.3.951693Thouʼrt damned for altʼring thy religion.

Thy lust and sin speak so much. Go thou, my ruin,

3.3.971695The first fall my soul took. By my example

3.3.981696I hope few maidens now will put their heads

3.3.991697Under menʼs girdles. Who least trusts is most wise;

3.3.1001698Menʼs oaths do cast a mist before our eyes.

3.3.1011699My best of wit be ready! Now I go

3.3.1021700By some device to greet Hippolito.