Fab. 'Faith, you may as well 'tice a Dog up with a Whip and Bell
As him, by telling him of Love and Women, he swears
They mock him.
Fred. Look how my Sister weeps.
Fab. Why, who can help it?
Fred. Yes, you may safely swear she loves him.
Fab. Why, so I did; and may do all the oaths,
Arithmetick can make, e're he believe me;
And since he was last drunk, he is more jealous
They would abuse him; if we could perswade him
She lov'd, he would embrace it.
Fred. She her self
Shall bate so much of her own modesty
To swear it to him, with such tears as now
You see rain from her.
Fab. I believe 'twould work,
But would you have her do't i'th' open street?
Or if you would, he'll run away from her,
How shall we get him hither?
Fred. By entreaty.
Fab. 'Tis most impossible, no, if we could
Anger him hither, as there is no way
But that to bring him, and then hold him fast,
Women, and men, whilst she delivers to him the truth
Seal'd with her tears, he would be plain
As a pleas'd Child; he walks below for me
Under the window.
Clor. We'll anger him I warrant ye,
Let one of the maids take a good Bowl of water,
Or say it be a piss-pot, and pour't on's head.