Enter Wanton and Bawd.
Wan. Is he gone?
Bawd. Yes, he's gone to the old lady's, high with mischief.
Wan. Fare him well, easy fool: how the trout strove to be tickled! And how does this ring become me, ha! They are fine kind of things, these wedding-rings.
[She plays with the wedding-ring upon her finger.
Bawd. Besides the good custom of putting so much gold in 'em,[215] they bring such conveniences along.
Wan. Why, ay; now I have but one to please, and if I please him, who dares offend me? and that wife's a fool that cannot make her husband one.
Bawd. Nay, I am absolutely of opinion it was fit for you to marry. But whether he be a good husband or no——
Wan. A pox of a good husband! give me a wise one; they only make the secure cuckolds, the cuckold in grain: for dye a husband that has wit but with an opinion thou art honest, and see who dares wash the colour out. Now your fool changes with every drop, doats with confidence in the morning, and at night jealous even to murder, and his love (Lord help us!) fades like my gredaline petticoat.[216]