Rom. Laugh yee? eene so did your wife,
And her indulgent father.
Cha. They were wife. [435]
Wouldst ha me be a foole?
Rom. No, but a man.
Cha. There is no dramme of manhood to suspect,
On such thin ayrie circumstance as this
Meere complement and courtship. Was this tale
The hydeous monster which you so conceal’d? [440]
Away, thou curious impertinent
And idle searcher of such leane nice toyes.
Goe, thou sedicious sower of debate:
Fly to such matches, where the bridegroome doubts:
He holds not worth enough to counteruaile [445]
The vertue and the beauty of his wife.
Thou buzzing drone that ’bout my eares dost hum,
To strike thy rankling sting into my heart,
Whose vemon, time, nor medicine could asswage.
Thus doe I put thee off, and confident [450]
In mine owne innocency, and desert,
Dare not conceiue her so vnreasonable,
To put Nouall in ballance against me,
An vpstart cran’d vp to the height he has.
Hence busiebody, thou’rt no friend to me, [455]
That must be kept to a wiues iniury,
Rom. Ist possible? farewell, fine, honest man,
Sweet temper’d Lord adieu: what Apoplexy
Hath knit fence vp? Is this Romonts reward?
Beare witnes the great spirit of my father, [460]
With what a healthfull hope I administer
This potion that hath wrought so virulently,
I not accuse thy wife of act, but would
Preuent her Praecipuce, to thy dishonour,
Which now thy tardy sluggishnesse will admit. [465]
Would I had seene thee grau’d with thy great Sire,
Ere liue to haue mens marginall fingers point
At Charaloys, as a lamented story.
An Emperour put away his wife for touching
Another man, but thou wouldst haue thine tasted [470]
And keepe her (I thinke.) Puffe. I am a fire
To warme a dead man, that waste out myselfe.
Bleed—what a plague, a vengeance i’st to mee,
If you will be a Cuckold? Heere I shew
A swords point to thee, this side you may shun, [475]
Or that: the perrill, if you will runne on,
I cannot helpe it.
Cha. Didst thou neuer see me
Angry, Romont?
Rom. Yes, and pursue a foe
Like lightening
Char. Prethee see me so no more.
I can be so againe. Put vp thy sword, [480]
And take thy selfe away, lest I draw mine.
Rom. Come fright your foes with this: sir, I am your friend,
And dare stand by you thus.
Char. Thou art not my friend,
Or being so, thou art mad, I must not buy
Thy friendship at this rate; had I iust cause, [485]
Thou knowst I durst pursue such iniury
Through fire, ayre, water, earth, nay, were they all
Shuffled againe to Chaos, but ther’s none.
Thy skill, Romont, consists in camps, not courts.
Farewell, vnciuill man, let’s meet no more. [490]
Heere our long web of friendship I vntwist.
Shall I goe whine, walke pale, and locke my wife
For nothing, from her births free liberty,
That open’d mine to me? yes; if I doe
The name of cuckold then, dog me with scorne. [495]
I am a Frenchman, no Italian borne.