Inf. My lord turned ranger now?
Orl. You’re a good huntress, lady; you ha’ found your game already: your lord would fain be a ranger, but my mistress requests you to let him run a course in your own park. If you’ll not do’t for love, then do’t for money! she has no white money, but there’s gold; or else she prays you to ring him by this token, and so you shall be sure his nose will not be rooting other men’s pastures. [Gives purse and ring.
Inf. This very purse was woven with mine own hands;
This diamond on that very night, when he
Untied my virgin girdle, gave I him:
And must a common harlot share in mine?
Old man, to quit thy pains, take thou the gold.
Orl. Not I, madam, old serving-men want no money.
Inf. Cupid himself was sure his secretary;
These lines are even the arrows love let flies,
The very ink dropt out of Venus’ eyes.
Orl. I do not think, madam, but he fetched off some poet or other for those lines, for they are parlous hawks to fly at wenches.
Inf. Here’s honied poison! To me he ne’er thus writ;
But lust can set a double edge on wit.
Orl. Nay, that’s true, madam, a wench will whet any thing, if it be not too dull.
Inf. Oaths, promises, preferments, jewels, gold,
What snares should break, if all these cannot hold?
What creature is thy mistress?
Orl. One of those creatures that are contrary to man; a woman.