No trick to give a man a taste of her -- wit --
Or so?

SUB [WITHIN]. Ulen!

FACE. I'll come to you again, sir.

[EXIT.]

MAM. Surly, I did not think one of your breeding
Would traduce personages of worth.

SUR. Sir Epicure,
Your friend to use; yet still loth to be gull'd:
I do not like your philosophical bawds.
Their stone is letchery enough to pay for,
Without this bait.

MAM. 'Heart, you abuse yourself.
I know the lady, and her friends, and means,
The original of this disaster. Her brother
Has told me all.

SUR. And yet you never saw her
Till now!

MAM. O yes, but I forgot. I have, believe it,
One of the treacherousest memories, I do think,
Of all mankind.