Cam. Pew wew, sir; tell me not
Of planets nor of Ephemerides.
A man may be made cuckold in the day-time,
When the stars' eyes are out.


Flam. Sir, good-bye you;
I do commit you to your pitiful pillow
Stuffed with horn-shavings.


Cam. Brother!


Flam. God refuse me.
Might I advise you now, your only course
Were to lock up your wife.


Cam. 'Twere very good.


Flam. Bar her the sight of revels.


Cam. Excellent.