Along, sir, to her; she’s an arrant strumpet; and a strumpet is a sarpego, venom’d gonorrhy to man—things actually possessed [Offers to go out, and suddenly draws back]—yet since thou art in love,—and again, as good make use of a statue—a body without a soul, a carcass three months dead—yet since thou art in love——
Mal. Death, man! my destiny I cannot choose. 142
Free. Nay, I hope so. Again, they sell but only flesh,
No jot affection; so that even in the enjoying,
Absentem marmoreamque putes.[31] Yet since you needs must love——
Mal. Unavoidable, though folly—worse than madness!
Free. It’s true; but since you needs must love, you must know this,—
He that must love, a fool and he must kiss.
Enter Cocledemoy.
Master Cocledemoy, ut vales, Domine! 150
Coc. Ago tibi gratias, my worshipful friend, how does your friend?
Free. Out, you rascal!