Zoy. Pity the frailty of my sex, sweet lord.
Zuc. No; pity is a fool, and I will not wear his[250] coxcomb. I have vowed to loathe thee. The Irishman shall hate aqua vitae,—the Welshman cheese,—the Dutchman shall loath salt butter,—before I relove thee. Does the babe pule? Thou shouldst ha’ cried before, ’tis too late now. No, the trees in autumn shall sooner call back the spring with shedding of their leaves, than thou reverse my just, irrevocable hatred with thy tears. Away! go! vaunt! 340
[Exeunt Zoya and the Ladies.
Herc. Nay, but most of this is your fault, that for many years, only upon mere mistrust, sever’d your body from your lady, and in that time gave opportunity, turn’d a
jealous ass, and hired[251] some to try and tempt your lady’s honour, whilst she, with all possible industry of apparent merit, diverting your unfortunate suspicion——
Zuc. I know’t; I confess, all this I did, and I do glory in’t. Why? cannot a young lady for many months keep honest? No, I misthought it. My wife had wit, beauty, health, good birth, fair clothes, and a passing body; a lady of rare discourse, quick eye, sweet language, alluring behaviour, and exquisite entertainment. I misthought it, I fear’d, I doubted, and at the last I found it out. I praise my wit: I knew I was a cuckold.
Herc. An excellent wit. 355
Zuc. True, Fawn; you shall read of some lords that have had such a wit, I can tell you; and I found it out that I was a cuckold!
Herc. Which now you have found, you will not be such an ass as Cæsar, great Pompey, Lucullus, Anthony, or Cato, and divers other Romans,—cuckolds, who all knew it, and yet were ne’er divorced upon’t:—or, like that smith-god, Vulcan, who, having taken his wife taking, yet was presently appeased, and entreated to make an armour for a bastard of hers, Æneas.[252] 365
Zuc. No, the Romans were asses, and thought that a woman might mix her thigh with a stranger wantonly, and yet still love her husband matrimonially.