Sub. Why, then, in plain terms, sir, the fort is mine:
Your wife has yielded; up-tails is her song.
The deed is done. Come now, be merry, man.
Hus. Is the deed done indeed? Come, come, you jest.
Has my wife yielded? is up-tails her song?
Faith, come to[132] prose: how got you to the matter first, ha?
Pish! you are so bashful now——
Sub. Why, by my troth, I'll tell you, because you are my friend; otherwise you must note, it is a great hurt to the art of whoremastery to discover; besides, the skill was never mine o' th' price.
Hus. Very good; on, sir.
Sub. At the first she was horrible stiff against me; then, sir, I took her by the hand, which I kissed.
Hus. Good, sir.
Sub. And I called her pretty rogue, and I thrust my finger betwixt her breasts, and I made lips. At last, I pulled her by the chin to me, and I kissed her.
Hus. Hum!—very good.
Sub. So at the first she kissed very strangely, close and untoward. Then said I to her, think but upon the wrongs, the intolerable wrongs, the rogue your husband does you.
Hus. Ay, that was very good: what said she to you then, sir?