_Wood._ Why, what a Turk Mahomet shall I be! No, I will not make
myself drunk with the conceit of so much joy: The fortune's too great
for mortal man; and I a poor unworthy sinner.

_Aldo._ Would I lie to my friend? Am I a man? Am I a christian? There
is that wife you mentioned, a delicate little wheedling devil, with
such an appearance of simplicity; and with that, she does so
undermine, so fool her conceited husband, that he despises her!

_Wood._ Just ripe for horns: His destiny, like a Turk's, is written in
his forehead.[1]

_Aldo._ Peace, peace! thou art yet ordained for greater things. There
is another, too, a kept mistress, a brave strapping jade, a two-handed
whore!

_Wood._ A kept mistress, too! my bowels yearn to her already: she is
certain prize.

_Aldo._ But this lady is so termagant an empress! and he is so
submissive, so tame, so led a keeper, and as proud of his slavery as a
Frenchman. I am confident he dares not find her false, for fear of a
quarrel with her; because he is sure to be at the charges of the war.
She knows he cannot live without her, and therefore seeks occasions of
falling out, to make him purchase peace. I believe she is now aiming
at a settlement.

_Wood._ Might not I ask you one civil question? How pass you your time
in this noble family? For I find you are a lover of the game, and I
should be loth to hunt in your purlieus.