SCENE III.
Enter Rosalura, and Oriana.
Ros. Ne'r vex your self, nor grieve; ye are a fool then.
Or. I am sure I am made so: yet before I suffer
Thus like a girl, and give him leave to triumph—
Ros. You say right; for as long as he perceives ye
Sink under his proud scornings, he'll laugh at ye:
For me secure your self; and for my Sister,
I partly know her mind too: howsoever
To obey my Father we have made a tender
Of our poor beauties to the travel'd Monsieur;
Yet two words to a bargain; he slights us
As skittish things, and we shun him as curious.
May be my free behaviour turns his stomach,
And makes him seem to doubt a loose opinion.
I must be so sometimes, though all the world saw it.
Ori. Why should not ye? Are our minds only measur'd?
As long as here ye stand secure.
Ros. Ye say true;
As long as mine own Conscience makes no question,
What care I for Report? That Woman's miserable
That's good or bad for their tongues sake: Come let's retire.
And get my veil Wench: By my troth your sorrow,
And the consideration of mens humorous maddings,
Have put me into a serious contemplation.
Enter Mirabel and Belleur.
Oria. Come 'faith, let's sit, and think.