SCENE II.—An outer Apartment in Bellafront’s House.
Enter Mistress Fingerlock and Roger.
Mis. F. O Roger, Roger, where’s your mistress, where’s your mistress? there’s the finest, neatest gentleman at my house, but newly come over: Oh, where is she, where is she, where is she?
Rog. My mistress is abroad, but not amongst ’em: my mistress is not the whore now that you take her for.
Mis. F. How? is she not a whore? do you go about to take away her good name, Roger? you are a fine pander indeed.
Rog. I tell you, Madonna Fingerlock, I am not sad for nothing, I ha’ not eaten one good meal this three and thirty days: I had wont to get sixteen pence by fetching a pottle of hippocras; but now those days are past. We had as good doings, Madonna Fingerlock, she within doors, and I without, as any poor young couple in Milan.
Mis. F. God’s my life, and is she changed now?
Rog. I ha’ lost by her squeamishness, more than would have builded twelve bawdy-houses.
Mis. F. And had she no time to turn honest but now? what a vile woman is this! twenty pound a-night, I’ll be sworn, Roger, in good gold and no silver: why here was a time! if she should ha’ picked out a time, it could not be better: gold enough stirring; choice of men, choice of hair, choice of beards, choice of legs, and choice of every, every, everything: it cannot sink into my head, that she should be such an ass. Roger, I never believe it.