Nou. Very good. [125]
Exit Nouall.
Rom. What a perfume the Muske-cat leaues behind him!
Do you admit him for a property,
To saue you charges, Lady.
Beau. Tis not vselesse,
Now you are to succeed him.
Rom. So I respect you,
Not for your selfe, but in remembrance of, [130]
Who is your father, and whose wife you now are,
That I choose rather not to vnderstand
Your nasty scoffe then,—
Beau. What, you will not beate mee,
If I expound it to you. Heer’s a Tyrant
Spares neyther man nor woman.
Rom. My intents [135]
Madam, deserue not this; nor do I stay
To be the whetstone of your wit: preserue it
To spend on such, as know how to admire
Such coloured stuffe. In me there is now speaks to you
As true a friend and seruant to your Honour, [140]
And one that will with as much hazzard guard it,
As euer man did goodnesse.—But then Lady,
You must endeauour not alone to bee,
But to appeare worthy such loue and seruice.
Beau. To what tends this?
Rom. Why, to this purpose, Lady, [145]
I do desire you should proue such a wife
To Charaloys (and such a one hee merits)
As Caesar, did hee liue, could not except at,
Not onely innocent from crime, but free
From all taynt and suspition.
Beau. They are base [150]
That iudge me otherwise.