But here's my bed-broker. Now, my great armful of good intelligence, where is my mistress?
Col. Fast locked in her bed, with a close ward to devour thee, my brave Paraquito:[198] but hush! no words; there is a calm before the tempest.
Alph. Tut, tell me of no storms; but direct me to her bed-chamber, my noble firelock of a flesh pistol.
Col. Follow thy colours, my brave worthy, mount up thy standard: so enter and prosper.
[She puts Alphonso into the orator's house.
Thou hast a rich room, safe locks, sweet sheets, a choice armful, with, O, the rare, rare thought of imagination.
Mech. What's this, what's this? Doth this Lord Alphonso turn the orator to an antelope? 'Tis more than excellent,
And from the juice of this despite I suck
Delight more great than all my miseries.
Observe, dear eyes, observe. [Aside.
Col. Nay, go thy way for a camel or a camelion; thou mayest compare with all Europe, Afric, and Asia; and one that will change tricks, though thou wert worthy to be schoolmaster either to Proteus or Aretine: what an excellent gift did God give unto man when he gave him woman; but how much more when that woman was made fair! But O, the most of all when she had wit to use every member of her creation. Well, I'll stand to't, there's nothing but beauty, use, and old age that puts women of my rank out of request; and yet like old bucklers, though few of your gallant cavaliers will wear us, yet many of your stale ruffians will employ us, and that's our comfort still.
Mech. Was ever heard a bawd more damnable!
A very mountebank of wench-flesh, an empiric,
A dog-leech for the putrified sores
Of these lust-canker'd great ones. O, I could
Even mad myself with railing at their vices.