Con. At your service.
Adri. At mine, faith! I should breech thee.
Con. How, breech me?
Adri. Ay, breech thee;[339] I have breech'd a taller man
Than you in my time: come in, and welcome. [Exit.
Con. Well, I see now a rich well-practis'd bawd
May purse more fees in a summer's progress
Than a well-traded lawyer in a whole term.
Pandarism! why, 'tis grown a liberal science,
Or a new sect, and the good professors
Will (like the Brownist) frequent gravel-pits shortly,
For they use woods and obscure holes already. [Exit.
Enter Taffata and Boutcher.
Taf. Not marry a widow?
Bout. No.
Taf. And why?
Belike, you think it base and servant-like
To feed upon reversion: you hold us widows,
But as a pie thrust to the lower end,
That hath had many fingers in't before,
And is reserv'd for gross and hungry stomachs.
Bout. You much mistake me.