Aur. I'll sooner plough up [the] shore and sow it, and live in expectation of a crop, before I'll think the least good from any of your sex, while I breathe again.
Luc. I hope, sir, that time and experience will rectify your judgment to a better opinion of us.
Aur. I'll trust my ship to a storm, my substance to a broken citizen, ere I'll credit any of you.
Luc. Good sir, be intreated: I come a penitent lover, with a vow'd recantation to all former practices and malicious endeavours, that I have wrought against you.
Aur. How can I think better of you, when I consider your nature, your pride, your treachery, your covetousness, your lust; and how you commit perjury easier than speak?
Luc. Sure, 'tis no desert in us, but your own misguided thoughts that move in you this passion.
Aur. Indeed, time was I thought you pretty foolish things to play withal, and was so blinded as to imagine that your hairs were golden threads,[336] that your eyes darted forth beams, that laughter sat smiling on your lips, and the coral itself looked pale to them: that you moved like a goddess, and diffused your pleasures wide as the air: then could I prevent the rising sun[337] to wait on you, observed every nod you cast forth, had the patience to hear your discourse, and admired you, when you talked of your visits, of the court, of councils, of nobility, and of your ancestors.
Luc. And were not these pleasing to you?
Aur. Nothing but a heap of tortures: but since I have learned the Delphic Oracle, to know myself, and ponder what a deal of mischief you work, I am content to live private and solitary, without any pensive thought what you do, or what shall become of you.
Luc. Sir, if you calculate all occasions, I have not merited this neglect from you.