Flo. Such bullocks, madam, well deserve a baiting.
Til. And beating too!
Tin. Yet this is my condition:
For marrying one Sir Reuben Scattergood,
A person in appearance like enough,
And well-dispos'd for aught my watchful eyes
Could long discover; but, his father dead,
And his revenues by his death swol'n great,
His nuptial bed he leaves, and entertains
Such mercenary prostitutes as fancy—
His loose-exposed fancy—lur'd him to.
Car. Injurious ribald!
Pal. Hateful libertine!
Til. Had she been old, or crook'd, or any way
Deform'd.
Sal. Or ill-condition'd.
Mor.Or averse,
When he was active.
Flo. Or run retrograde
To his just pleasures: these might have abridg'd
And weaken'd his affection. But when beauty,
Composed temper, and a graceful presence,
Cloth'd both with majesty and a sweet smile
Of such attractive quality, as the adamant
Cannot more virtually enforce its object,
Than these impressive motives of content:
He merits not the title of a man,
Much less the embraces of so choice a spouse,
Who violates his faith, deceives her trust.
Car. I am directly, sir, of your opinion.