Bal. I come, I come; more than most honeysuckle sweet ladies, pine not for my presence, I’ll return in pomp. Well spoke, Sir Jeffrey Balurdo. As I am a true knight, I feel honourable eloquence begin to grope me already. 140
[Exit.
Pier. Faith, mad niece, I wonder when thou wilt marry?
Ros. Faith, kind uncle, when men abandon jealousy, forsake taking of tobacco, and cease to wear their beards so rudely long. O, to have a husband with a mouth continually smoking, with a bush of furze on the ridge
of his chin, ready still to flop into his foaming chaps; ah, ’tis more than most intolerable.
Pier. Nay faith, sweet niece, I was mighty strong in thought we should have shut up night with an old comedy: the Prince of Florence[174] shall have Mellida, and thou should’st have——. 152
Ros. Nobody, good sweet uncle. I tell you, sir, I have thirty-nine servants, and my monkey that makes the fortieth. Now I love all of them lightly for something, but affect none of them seriously for anything. One’s a passionate fool, and he flatters me above belief; the second’s a testy ape, and he rails at me beyond reason; the third’s as grave as some censor, and he strokes up his mustachios three times, and makes six plots of set faces, before he speaks one wise word; the fourth’s as dry as the bur of an hartichoke; the fifth paints, and hath always a good colour for what he speaks; the sixth——. 164
Pier. Stay, stay, sweet niece, what makes you thus suspect your gallants’ worth?
Ros. O, when I see one wear a periwig, I dread his hair; another wallow in a great slop,[175] I mistrust the proportion of his thigh; and wears a ruffled boot,[176] I fear the fashion of his leg. Thus, something in each thing, one
trick in everything makes me mistrust imperfection in all parts; and there’s the full point of my addiction. 172