but lose your selves, not any part concerns your understandings, for
then you are Meacocks, fools, and miserable march off amain, within an
inch of a Fircug, turn me o'th' toe like a Weather-cock, kill every day
a Sergeant for a twelve month, rob the Exchequer, and burn all the
Rolls, and these will make a shew.

_Hare._ And these are trifles.

_Val._ Considered to a Widow, empty nothings, for here you venture
but your persons, there the varnish of your persons, your discretions;
why 'tis a monstrous thing to marry at all, especially as now 'tis made;
me thinks a man, an understanding man, is more wise to me, and of a
nobler tie, than all these trinkets; what do we get by women, but our
senses, which is the rankest part about us, satisfied, and when that's
done, what are we? Crest-fallen Cowards. What benefit can children be,
but charges and disobedience? What's the love they render at one and
twenty years? I pray die Father: when they are young, they are like
bells rung backwards, nothing but noise and giddiness; and come to years
once, there drops a son by th' sword in his Mistresses quarrel, a great
joy to his parents: A Daughter ripe too, grows high and lusty in her
blood, must have a heating, runs away with a supple ham'd Servingman:
his twenty Nobles spent, takes to a trade, and learns to spin mens hair
off; there's another, and most are of this nature, will you marry?

_Fount._ For my part yes, for any doubt I feel yet.

_Val._ And this same widow?

_Fount._ If I may, and me thinks, however you are pleased to
dispute these dangers, such a warm match, and for you, Sir, were not