SCENE III.
THou Dear Soft Rogue, my Spouse, my Hephestion, my Ga∣nymed, nay, if I dye to night my Dukedom's thine—But art thou sure the Princess of Cleve withdraws here after Dinner—
One of her Women whom I have Debauch'd, tells me 'tis her Custom; you may slip into the Closet and over-hear all, and yet me∣thinks 'tis hard, because the Prince of Cleve loves you as his Life.
I sav'd his Life, Sweet-heart, when he was assaulted by a mi∣stake in the dark, and shall he grudge me a little Fooling with his Wife, for so serious an Obligation?
A Pox upon him, here comes the Vidam with his sowre Morals—
'Tis certain I like her—She's very pretty, and Tournon shall help me to her—
In Love, by my Lechery—Ay, and she shall help thee to her— But who, but who is't my Man of Principles—
To tell your Grace, I am sure were to be a Man of none for my self—You that are the Whores Ingrosser—Let me see—There's Tournon your Ubiquitary Whore, your Bawd, your Bawd Barber or Bawd Surgeon, for you're ever under her hands, and she Plaisters you every day with new Wenches—Then there's your Domestick Ter∣magant—Elianor and Celia, with something new in Chase—Why you outdo Cesar himself in your way, and dictate to more Whores at once than he did to Knaves—Believe me Sir, in a little time you'll be nick'd the Town Bull.
Why there's the difference betwixt my Sense and yours; wou'd I were, and your Darklin Mistress the first shou'd come in my way, Iove and Europa, I'd leap her in thy Face—Why, how now Vidam, what Devil has turn'd thee Grave, the Devil of Love, or the Devil of Envy?
Friendship, mere Friendship and care of your Soul; I thought it but just, to tell you the whole Town takes notice of your way.