Vit. O ye dissembling men!
Flam. We suck'd that, sister,
From women's breasts, in our first infancy.
Vit. To add misery to misery!
Brach. Sweetest!
Vit. Am I not low enough?
Ay, ay, your good heart gathers like a snowball,
Now your affection 's cold.
Flam. Ud's foot, it shall melt
To a heart again, or all the wine in Rome
Shall run o' th' lees for 't.
Vit. Your dog or hawk should be rewarded better
Than I have been. I 'll speak not one word more.
Flam. Stop her mouth
With a sweet kiss, my lord. So,
Now the tide 's turn'd, the vessel 's come about.
He 's a sweet armful. Oh, we curl-hair'd men
Are still most kind to women! This is well.
Brach. That you should chide thus!
Flam. Oh, sir, your little chimneys
Do ever cast most smoke! I sweat for you.
Couple together with as deep a silence,
As did the Grecians in their wooden horse.
My lord, supply your promises with deeds;
You know that painted meat no hunger feeds.