Eit. O, that’s an old one, Madame.
Wit. There are new ones, too. Corrupts the breath; hath left ſo little ſweetneſſe 30 In kiſſing, as ’tis now vſ’d, but for faſhion: And ſhortly will be taken for a puniſhment. Decayes the fore-teeth, that ſhould guard the tongue; And ſuffers that runne riot euer-laſting! And (which is worſe) ſome Ladies when they meete 35 Cannot be merry, and laugh, but they doe ſpit In one anothers faces!
Man. I ſhould know This voyce, and face too: Manly begins to know him.
VVit. Then they ſay, ’tis dangerous [147] To all the falne, yet well diſpos’d Mad-dames, That are induſtrious, and deſire to earne 40 Their liuing with their ſweate! For any diſtemper Of heat, and motion, may diſplace the colours; And if the paint once runne about their faces, Twenty to one, they will appeare ſo ill-fauour’d, Their ſeruants run away, too, and leaue the pleaſure 45 Imperfect, and the reckoning all vnpay’d.
Eit. Pox, theſe are Poets reaſons.
Tay. Some old Lady That keepes a Poet, has deuis’d theſe ſcandales.
Eit. Faith we muſt haue the Poets baniſh’d, Madame, As Maſter Either-ſide ſaies.
Mer. Maſter Fitz-dottrel? 50 And his wife: where? Madame, the Duke of Drown’d-land, That will be ſhortly.
VVit. Is this my Lord?
Mer. The ſame.