Val. Ye are—Oh, my heart's too high and full to think upon ye.
[Exeunt.
Enter Evanthe, and Cassandra.
Evan. You think it fit then, mortified Cassandra,
That I should be a Whore?
Cas. Why a Whore, Madam?
If every Woman that upon necessity
Did a good turn, for there's the main point, mark it,
Were term'd a Whore, who would be honest, Madam?
Your Lords life, and your own are now in hazard,
Two precious lives may be redeem'd with nothing,
Little or nothing; say an hours or days sport,
Or such a toy, the end to it is wantonness.
(That we call lust that maidens lose their fame for)
But a compell'd necessity of honour,
Fair as the day, and clear as innocence,
Upon my life and conscience, a direct way—
Evan. To be a Rascal.
Cas. 'Tis a kind of Rape too,
That keeps you clear, for where your will's compell'd
Though you yield up your Body you are safe still.
Evan. Thou art grown a learned Bawd, I ever look'd
Thy great sufficiency would break out.
Cas. You may,
You that are young, and fair scorn us old Creatures,
But you must know my years, ere you be wise, Lady,
And my experience too; say the King loved ye?
Say it were nothing else?
Evan. I, marry wench, now thou comest to me.