Fran. So do not I, till I can know 'em wiser:
Some Gentleman? no Clora, till some Gentleman
Keep some land, and fewer whores, believe me
I'le keep no love for him, I do not long
To go a foot yet, and solicite causes.
Clor. What think you then of an adventurer?
I mean some wealthy Merchant.
Fran. Let him venture
In some decai'd Ware, or Carack of his own: he shall not
Rig me out, that's the short on't; out upon't:
What young thing of my years would endure
To have her Husband in another Country
Within a month after she is married
Chopping for rotten Raisins, and lye pining
At home under the mercy of his fore-man? no,
Though they be wealthy, and indifferent wise
I do not see that I am bound to love 'em.
Clo. I see ye are hard to please; yet I will please ye.
Fran. Faith not so hard neither, if considered
What woman may deserve as she is worthy:
But why do we bestow our time so idlely?
Prethee let us entertain some other talk,
This is as sickly to me as faint weather.
Clor. Now I believe I shall content you Frank,
What think you of a Courtier?
Fran. Faith so ill,
That if I should be full, and speak but truth,
'Twould shew as if I wanted charity,
Prethee good wench let me not rail upon 'em,
Yet I have an excellent stomach, and must do it;
I have no mercy of these Infidels
Since I am put in mind on't, good wench bear with me.
Clo. Can no man fit you? I will find him out.
Fran. This Summer fruit, that you call Courtier,
While you continue cold and frosty to him
Hangs fast, and may be found: but when you fling
Too full a heat of your affections
Upon his root, and make him ripe too soon,
You'll find him rotten i'th' handling;
His oaths and affections are all one
With his apparel, things to set him off,
He has as many Mistrisses as Faiths,
And all Apocrypha; his true belief
Is only in a private Surgion,
And for my single self, I'd sooner venture
A new conversion of the Indies,
Than to make Courtiers able men, or honest.
Clo. I do believe you love no Courtier,
And by my troth to ghess you into love
With any I can think of, is beyond
Either your will, or my imagination.
And yet I am sure y'are caught: and I will know him.
There's none left now worthy the thinking of,
Unless it be a Souldier, and I am sure,
I would ever bless my self from such a fellow.