The difference lies only in the custom.
And let it be our custom, I advise;
I'm sure this custom's better than th' excise,
And may procure us custom: hearts of flint
Will melt in passion, when a woman's in't.
But, gentlemen, you that as judges sit
In the Star-chamber of the house—the pit,
Have modest thoughts of her; pray, do not run
To give her visits when the play is done,
With 'damn me, your most humble servant, lady;'