Lav. Nay, start not Lady; 'tis for you that I come,
And for your beauty: 'tis for you, Lavall
Honors this night; to you, the sacred shrine
I humbly bow, offering my vows and prayers;
To you I live.
Gab. In with the powder quickly:
So, that and the Wine will rock ye.
[Lav. Here, to the health]
Of the most beauteous and divine, fair Casta,
The star of sweetness.
Gab. Fear him not, I'll die first.
And who shall pledge ye?
Lav. Thou shalt, thou tann'd Gipsey:
And worship to that brightness give, cold Tartar.
By —— ye shall not stir; ye are my Mistris,
The glory of my love, the great adventure,
The Mistris of my heart, and she my whore.
Gab. Thou ly'st, base, beastly Lord; drunker then anger,
Thou sowsed Lord, got by a surfeit, thou lyest basely.
Nay, stir not: I dare tell thee so. Sit you still.
If I be whore, it is in marrying thee,
That art so absolute and full a villain,
No Sacrament can save that piece tied to thee.
How often hast thou woo'd in those flatteries,
Almost those very words, my constancie?
What goddess have I not been, or what goodness
What star that is of any name in Heaven,
Or brightness? which of all the virtues
(But drunkenness, and drabbing, thy two morals)
Have not I reach'd to? what Spring was ever sweeter?
What Scythian snow so white? what crystal chaster?
Is not thy new wife now the same too? Hang thee,
Base Bigamist, thou honor of ill women.
Casta. How's this? O! Heaven defend me.
Gab. Thou salt-itch,
For whom no cure but ever burning brimstone
Can be imagin'd.
Lav. Ha, ha, ha.
Gab. Dost thou laugh, thou breaker
Of all law, all religion, of all faith
Thou Soule contemner?