Jasp. Why so scornful, dear Flora?
Flor. That’s not my bus’ness; come, tell me, where’s the Nurse?
Jasp. Prethee, why dost ask me for the Nurse? Dost think
i am so hot to make Love to a Monument? Why, she’s
old enough to be Mother of all Mankind; her skin’s
turn’d to parchment, he that should enjoy her, had as
good lye with a bundle of Old Records. In truth, she’s
fit for nothing now, but to be hang’d up amongst the
monsters in a ’Pothecaries Shop, where, with abuse to
the Beast, she would be taken for a large Apes skin stufft
with Hay. Ah, Flora, if she were as Young as thou art,
then’t might be likely, I might find her when she was lost.
Flor. Well, if she be not here now, I’m sure it was not for
nothing you once lost your way into her Chamber,
and staid all Night.
Jasp. Meer Drunkenness, by this Light, Flora! Why, if it had
been a Vault full of Dead Carkasses, I should have slipt
into it in the pickle I was in—Nay, for ought I know,
with more pleasure too.
[Enter Nurse.
Nurse. Now out upon you for a Rogue,
there’s no enduring this.
Jasp. Do but hear me, Nurse.
Flor. Ay, hear him, Nurse, he’l be sure to recant and
swear you’re as sweet as—a—fogh—so sweet—
Nurse. What, Hussy, dare you abuse me—I that gave suck
to my Lady before thou wast born—you Young Whore.