not start; in us all meetings lie open to these lewd reports, and our
thoughts at Church, our very meditations some will swear, which all
should fear to judge, at least uncharitably, are mingled with your
memories, cannot sleep, but this sweet Gentleman swims in our fancies,
that scarlet man of war, and that smooth senior; not dress our heads
without new ambushes, how to surprize that greatness, or that glorie;
our very smiles are subject to constructions; nay Sir, it's come to this
we cannot pish, but 'tis a favour for some fool or other: should we
examine you thus, wer't not possible to take you without Perspectives?

[_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.