W. Small. Thus: all old men, which marry
Young wives, shall questionless be sav'd,
For while they're young, they keep other men's wives,
And when they're old, they keep wives for other men,
And so by satisfaction procure salvation.
Why, thou dejected tail of a crab!
Does not the fair Constantia Sommerfield[421]
Doat on thy filthy face? and wilt thou wed
A wanton widow? what can'st thou see,
To doat on her?
Bout. Only this—I love her.
W. Small. Dost love her? then take a purgation,
For love, I'll assure thee, is a binder.
Of all things under heaven, there's no fitter
Parallels than a drunkard and a lover;
For a drunkard loses his senses, so does your lover;
Your drunkard is quarrelsome, so is your lover;
Your drunkard will swear, lie, and speak great
Words—so will your lover; your drunkard is most
Desirous of his lechery, and so is your lover.
Well, the night grows old; farewell.
I am so much thy friend, that none shall bed thee,
While fair Constantia is resolv'd to wed thee. [Exeunt.
Enter Thomas Small-Shanks, and others.
T. Small. Foot, shall we let the wench go thus?
My masters, now show yourselves gentlemen,
And take away the lawyer's wife.
Foot, though I have no wit, yet I can
Love a wench, and choose a wife.
Gent. Why, sir, what should you do with a wife, that are held none of the wisest? you'll get none but fools.
T. Small. How! fools? why may not I, a fool, get a wise child, as well as wise men get fools[422]; all lies but in the agility of the woman. In troth, I think all fools are got when their mothers sleep; therefore I'll never lie with my wife, but when she is broad waking. Stand to't, honest friends; knock down the lieutenant, and then hurry the wench to Fleet Street; there my father and I will this morning be married.
Enter Beard and Frances.
Gent. Stand close: they come.