Draw. Our last year's vintage, madam, was but small.
Cav. It seems so by your measure: this would never
Quicken the spirit nor inflame the blood.
[One of the Ladies, looking out, discovers their deserted Knights attired like their favourites, with their cloaks over their faces.
Lady. They come, they come, they come!
All. Let's entertain them with a joint neglect.
SCENE IV.
As their husbands pass along, they take occasion of discourse one with another.
Knights. Let us pass by them with regardless scorn.
Sir Reu. Pox on these overacting prostitutes!
They sate mine appetite.