Steph. Nay, you must be well hanged ere you can be as I am.
Wid. So, sir: I conceit you. Were I as well hanged, then, as you could imagine, I would tell some rich widow such a tale in her ear—
Steph. Ha! some rich widow? By this penniless pocket, I think 'twere not the worst way.
Wid. I'd be ashamed to take such a fruitless oath. I say, seek me out some rich widow; promise her fair—she's apt to believe a young man. Marry her, and let her estate fly. No matter: 'tis charity. Twenty to one some rich miser raked it together. This is none of Hercules' labours.
Steph. Ha? Let me recount these articles: seek her out; promise her fair; marry her; let her estate fly. But where should I find her?
Wid. The easiest of all. Why, man, they are more common than tavern-bushes; two fairs might be furnished every week in London with 'em, though no foreigners came in, if the charter were granted once: nay, 'tis thought, if the horsemarket be removed, that Smithfield shall be so employed; and then, I'll warrant you, 'twill be as well furnished with widows as 'twas with sows, cows, and old trotting jades before.
Steph. 'Sfoot! if it were, I would be a chapman; I'd see for my pleasure, and buy for my love, for money I have none.
Wid. Thou shalt not stay the market, if thou'lt be ruled. I'll find thee out a widow, and help in some of the rest too, if thou'lt but promise me the last, but to let her estate fly; for she's one I love not, and I'd be glad to see that revenge on her.
Steph. Spend her estate? were't five aldermen's. I'll put you in security for that; 'sfoot! all my neighbours shall be bound for me; nay, my kind sister-in-law shall pass her word for that.
Wid. Only this I'll enjoin you: to be matrimonially honest to her for your own health's sake. All other injuries shall be blessings to her.