SCAN. Ay, your husband, a husband is an opportunity for pleasure: so you have taken care of honour, and ’tis the least I can do to take care of conscience.
MRS. FORE. And so you think we are free for one another?
SCAN. Yes, faith I think so; I love to speak my mind.
MRS. FORE. Why, then, I’ll speak my mind. Now as to this affair between you and me. Here you make love to me; why, I’ll confess it does not displease me. Your person is well enough, and your understanding is not amiss.
SCAN. I have no great opinion of myself, but I think I’m neither deformed nor a fool.
MRS. FORE. But you have a villainous character: you are a libertine in speech, as well as practice.
SCAN. Come, I know what you would say: you think it more dangerous to be seen in conversation with me than to allow some other men the last favour; you mistake: the liberty I take in talking is purely affected for the service of your sex. He that first cries out stop thief is often he that has stol’n the treasure. I am a juggler, that act by confederacy; and if you please, we’ll put a trick upon the world.
MRS. FORE. Ay; but you are such an universal juggler, that I’m afraid you have a great many confederates.
MRS. FORE. Oh, fie—I’ll swear you’re impudent.
MRS. FORE. Pish, you’d tell me so, though you did not think so.
SCAN. And you’d think so, though I should not tell you so. And now I think we know one another pretty well.
BEN. Mess, I love to speak my mind. Father has nothing to do with me. Nay, I can’t say that neither; he has something to do with me. But what does that signify? If so be that I ben’t minded to be steered by him; ’tis as thof he should strive against wind and tide.
MRS. FRAIL. Ay, but, my dear, we must keep it secret till the estate be settled; for you know, marrying without an estate is like sailing in a ship without ballast.
BEN. He, he, he; why, that’s true; just so for all the world it is indeed, as like as two cable ropes.
MRS. FRAIL. And though I have a good portion, you know one would not venture all in one bottom.
BEN. Why, that’s true again; for mayhap one bottom may spring a leak. You have hit it indeed: mess, you’ve nicked the channel.
MRS. FRAIL. Well, but if you should forsake me after all, you’d break my heart.