O. ART. Yes, if a man do well consider her,
Your daughter is the wonder of her sex.
O. LUS. Are you advis'd of that? I cannot tell,
What 'tis you call the wonder of her sex,
But she is—is she?—ay, indeed, she is.
O. ART. What is she?
O. LUS. Even what you will—you know best what she is.
ANS. Yon is her husband: let us leave this talk:[3]
How full are bad thoughts of suspicion;
I love, but loathe myself for loving so,
Yet cannot change my disposition.
FUL. Medice, cura teipsum.
ANS. Hei mihi! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.
[Exeunt ANSELM and FULLER.
Y. ART. All your persuasions are to no effect,
Never allege her virtues nor her beauty,
My settled unkindness hath begot
A resolution to be unkind still,
My ranging pleasures love variety.
Y. LUS. O, too unkind unto so kind a wife,
Too virtueless to one so virtuous,
And too unchaste unto so chaste a matron.