Con. Come not you for love?
Bout. I do, boy.
Con. And you would have the widow?
Bout. I would.
Con. By Jove,
I never saw one go about his business
More untowardly: why, sir, do not you know,
That he which would be inward[365] with the mistress,
Must make a way first through the waiting-maid?
If you will know the widow's affections,
Feel first the waiting gentlewoman; do it, master:
Some half a dozen kisses were not lost
Upon this gentlewoman; for you must know,
These waiting-maids are to their mistresses,
Like porches unto doors; you pass the one,
Before you can have entrance at the other.
Or like your mustard to your piece of brawn,
If you'll have one taste well, you must not scorn
To be dipping in the other. I tell you, master.
'Tis not a few men's tales which they prefer
Unto their mistresses in compass of a year.
Be rul'd by me; untruss yourself to her,
Out with all your lovesick thoughts to her,
Kiss her, and give her an angel to buy pins,
And this shall sooner win her mistress' love,
Than all your protestations, sighs, and tears.
Enter Taffata and Adriana.
Here they come. To her boldly, master.
Do, but dally not; that's the widow's phrase.[366]
Bout. Most worthy fair, such is the power of love,
That now I come t'accept your proffer'd grace;
And with submissive thoughts t'entreat a pardon
For my so gross neglect.
Taf. There's no offence;
My mind is changed.
Adri. I told you as much before.