_Bil._ A bitter fool![463]--Come, madam, this night thou shalt enjoy me freely, and to-morrow for Florence. 148
_Pass._ What a natural fool is he that would be a pair of boddice to a woman's petticoat, to be trussed and pointed to them! Well, I'll dog my lord; and the word is proper: for when I fawn upon him, he feeds me; when I snap him by the fingers, he spits in my mouth. If a dog's death were not strangling, I had rather be one than a serving-man; for the corruption of coin is either the generation of a usurer or a lousy beggar.
_Enter_ MALEVOLE _in some frize gown, whilst_ BILIOSO _reads his patent_.
_Mal._ I cannot sleep; my eyes' ill-neighbouring lids Will hold no fellowship. O thou pale sober night, Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense dost steep; Thou that giv'st all the world full leave to play, 160 Unbend'st the feebled veins of sweaty labour! The galley-slave, that all the toilsome day Tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave, Straining his rugged veins, snores fast; The stooping scythe-man, that doth barb the field, Thou mak'st wink sure: in night all creatures sleep; Only the malcontent, that 'gainst his fate Repines and quarrels,--alas, he's goodman tell-clock! His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan; Whilst others' beds are down, his pillow's stone. 170
_Mal._ Elder of Israel, thou honest defect of wicked nature and obstinate ignorance, when did thy wife let thee lie with her?
_Bil._ I am going ambassador to Florence.
_Mal._ Ambassador! Now, for thy country's honour, prithee, do not put up mutton and porridge i' thy cloakbag. Thy young lady wife goes to Florence with thee too, does she not?
_Bil._ No, I leave her at the palace. 180
_Mal._ At the palace! Now, discretion shield, man; for God's love, let's ha' no more cuckolds! Hymen begins to put off his saffron[464] robe: keep thy wife i' the state of grace. Heart o' truth, I would sooner leave my lady singled in a bordello than in the Genoa palace: Sin there appearing in her sluttish shape, Would soon grow loathsome, even to blushes' sense; Surfeit would choke[465] intemperate appetite, Make the soul scent the rotten breath of lust. When in an Italian lascivious palace, 190 A lady guardianless, Left to the push of all allurement, The strongest incitements to immodesty, To have her bound, incens'd with wanton sweets, Her veins fill'd high with heating delicates, Soft rest, sweet music, amorous masquerers, Lascivious banquets, sin itself gilt o'er, Strong fantasy tricking up strange delights, Presenting it dress'd pleasingly to sense, Sense leading it unto the soul, confirm'd 200 With potent examples impudent custom, Entic'd by that great bawd, opportunity;[466] Thus being prepar'd, clap to her easy ear Youth in good clothes, well-shap'd, rich, Fair-spoken, promising, noble, ardent, blood-full, Witty, flattering,--Ulysses absent, O Ithaca,[467] can chastest Penelope hold out?