Who sells her honour for a Diamond,
Who, for a tissew robe: whose husband's jealous,
And who so kind, that, to share with his wife,
Will make the match himself:
Harmless conceits,
Though fools say they are dangerous: I sang it
The last night at my Lord Photinus table.
Ach. How? as a Fidler?
Sep. No Sir, as a Guest,
A welcom guest too: and it was approv'd of