Flo. I'll preserve him. [Exit.
Cle. Have you no business, sir, imports you more,
Than t' hold discourse with me? Troth, I shall pity
You want employment.
Oni. Madam, what can be
More serious?
Cle. Nothing more, if your design
Be to convert me: for I know you hold
All ladies in a schism who are young and proud.
Oni. Your pardon, madam. I believe you[285] cunning
Court-ladies choose some petty venial errors
To set perfection off; for should you not
Usurp a handsome pride, your fame would lie,
Like unwall'd cities, open to the prey
Of each invading youth. Did you not show
A scorn, you would deserve it.
Cle. Sir, take heed.
Hope not to win my favour by extolling
What in our better thoughts we ourselves condemn.
I am so wearied out with vows and oaths,
With impious praises and most tedious flattery,
That nothing but plain-speaking truth can gain
On my affection.
Oni. Madam, your affection?
Cle. Pray, sir, do not comment upon the word;
It doth portend no danger to you.
Oni. And if it did, where's the beatitude?
For though I grant your virtues great as beauty
Can entertain, and foolish I resolv'd
To captivate my stock of life t' a woman,
Yet would I not adventure on you, if
You did not vow to perform articles.
Cle. Suppose the business come to articles?