hurtfull.

_Val._ Not half so killing as for you, for me she cannot with all
the Art she has, make me more miserable, or much more fortunate, I have
no state left, a benefit that none of you can brag of, and there's the
Antidote against a Widow, nothing to lose, but that my soul inherits,
which she can neither law nor claw away; to that, but little flesh, it
were too much else; and that unwholsom too, it were too rich else; and
to all this contempt of what she do's I can laugh at her tears, neglect
her angers, hear her without a faith, so pity her as if she were a
Traytour, moan her person, but deadly hate her pride; if you could do
these, and had but this discretion, and like fortune, it were but an
equal venture.

_Fount._ This is malice.

_Val._ When she lies with your land, and not with you, grows great
with joyntures, and is brought to bed with all the state you have,
you'le find this certain; but is it come to pass you must marry, is
there no buff will hold you?

_Bel._ Grant it be so.

_Val._ Then chuse the tamer evil, take a maid, a maid not worth a
penny; make her yours, knead her, and mould her yours, a maid worth
nothing, there's a vertuous spell in that word nothing; a maid makes
conscience of half a Crown a week for pins and puppits, a maid will be
content with one Coach and two Horses, not falling out because they are
not matches; with one man satisfied, with one rein guided, with one
faith, one content, one bed, aged she makes the wise, preserves the fame