ADRI. Why so! I took you for a novice: and I must think You know not yet the inwards of a woman. Do you not know that women are like fish, Which must be struck, when they are prone to bite, Or all your labour's lost? But, sir, walk here; And I'll inform my mistress your desires. [_Exit._
CON. By Jove, I never saw one go about his business More untowardly: why, sir, do not you know, That he which would be inward[365] with the mistress, Must make a way first through the waiting-maid? If you will know the widow's affections, Feel first the waiting gentlewoman; do it, master: Some half a dozen kisses were not lost Upon this gentlewoman; for you must know, These waiting-maids are to their mistresses, Like porches unto doors; you pass the one, Before you can have entrance at the other. Or like your mustard to your piece of brawn, If you'll have one taste well, you must not scorn To be dipping in the other. I tell you, master. 'Tis not a few men's tales which they prefer Unto their mistresses in compass of a year. Be rul'd by me; untruss yourself to her, Out with all your lovesick thoughts to her, Kiss her, and give her an angel to buy pins, And this shall sooner win her mistress' love, Than all your protestations, sighs, and tears.
Here they come. To her boldly, master. Do, but dally not; that's the widow's phrase.[366]
BOUT. Most worthy fair, such is the power of love, That now I come t'accept your proffer'd grace; And with submissive thoughts t'entreat a pardon For my so gross neglect.
TAF. There's no offence; My mind is changed.
CON. With a hey-pass--with a repass.[367] [_Aside._
BOUT. Dearest of women! The constant virtue of your nobler mind Speaks in your looks: nor can you entertain Both love and hate at once.
CON. Fee the waiting-maid, master! [_Whispers._
BOUT. Stand thou propitious; endear me to my love.
[BOUTCHER _gives_ ADRIANA _his purse secretly_.
ADRI. Dear mistress, turn to this gentleman; I protest I have some feeling of his constant love. Cast him not away; try his love.
TAF. Why, sir, With what audacious front can you entreat To enjoy my love, which yet not two hours since You scornfully refus'd?
CON. Well fare the waiting-maid. [_Aside._
BOUT. My fate compell'd me; but now farewell, fond fear: My soul, my life, my lands, and reputation-- I'll hazard all, and prize them all beneath thee.