Sir Gre. Revenge to me 's far sweeter than to live.
All. To't, to't; for love's sake, let us to't.
Sir Reu. The plot is laid with such industrious skill,
If this take not, I do not know what will.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV., SCENE 1.
Enter Madam Fricase, Madam Caveare, Madam Julippe, Madam Joculette, Madam Medlar, Madam Tinder.
Fri. How tedious morns these be in our expectance
Of what we tender most?
Cav. Credit me, madam,
My marriage-day from th' rising sun to night
Seem'd not so long, though it was long enough—
As the slow-running course of this morn's visit.
Jul. Desires cannot endure protractive hours;
The poet has confirm'd our thoughts in this,
Placing our action far below our wish:
"Sooner quenched is love's fire
With fruition than desire."