You shall not pull downe me; my husbands height
Is crowne to all my hopes, and his retiring
To any meane state, shall be my aspiring.
Mine honour's in mine owne hands, spite of kings. _Mons._ Honour, what's that? your second maydenhead:
And what is that? a word: the word is gone,
The thing remaines; the rose is pluckt, the stalk
Abides: an easie losse where no lack's found.
Beleeve it, there's as small lack in the losse
As there is paine ith' losing. Archers ever
Have two strings to a bow, and shall great Cupid
(Archer of archers both in men and women)
Be worse provided than a common archer?
A husband and a friend all wise wives have. _Tam._ Wise wives they are that on such strings depend,
With a firme husband joyning a lose friend. _Mons._ Still you stand on your husband; so doe all
The common sex of you, when y'are encounter'd
With one ye cannot fancie: all men know
You live in Court here by your owne election,
Frequenting all our common sports and triumphs,
All the most youthfull company of men.
And wherefore doe you this? To please your husband?
Tis grosse and fulsome: if your husbands pleasure
Be all your object, and you ayme at honour
In living close to him, get you from Court,
You may have him at home; these common put-ofs
For common women serve: "my honour! husband!"
Dames maritorious ne're were meritorious:
Speak plaine, and say "I doe not like you, sir,
Y'are an ill-favour'd fellow in my eye,"
And I am answer'd. _Tam._ Then I pray be answer'd:
For in good faith, my lord, I doe not like you
In that sort you like. _Mons._ Then have at you here!
Take (with a politique hand) this rope of pearle;
And though you be not amorous, yet be wise:
Take me for wisedom; he that you can love
Is nere the further from you. _Tam._ Now it comes
So ill prepar'd, that I may take a poyson
Under a medicine as good cheap as it:
I will not have it were it worth the world. _Mons._ Horror of death! could I but please your eye,
You would give me the like, ere you would loose me.
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