SCENE II.—The New Exchange.
Enter Horner, Harcourt, and Dorilant.
Dor. Engaged to women, and not sup with us!
Horn. Ay, a pox on 'em all!
Har. You were much a more reasonable man in the morning, and had as noble resolutions against 'em, as a widower of a week's liberty.
Dor. Did I ever think to see you keep company with women in vain?
Horn. In vain: no—'tis since I can't love 'em, to be revenged on 'em.
Har. Now your sting is gone, you looked in the box amongst all those women like a drone in the hive; all upon you, shoved and ill-used by 'em all, and thrust from one side to t'other.
Dor. Yet he must be buzzing amongst 'em still, like other beetle-headed liquorish drones. Avoid 'em, and hate 'em, as they hate you.
Horn. Because I do hate 'em, and would hate 'em yet more, I'll frequent 'em. You may see by marriage, nothing makes a man hate a woman more than her constant conversation. In short, I converse with 'em, as you do with rich fools, to laugh at 'em and use 'em ill.