Ran. Do you but pretend it then, madam?
L. Flip. [Aside] I shall discover myself—[Aloud] I mean, because I hold against it, you do the same in complaisance:—for I have heard say, cunning men think to bring the coy and untractable women to tameness as they do some mad people—by humouring their frenzies.
Ran. I am none of those cunning men, yet have too much wit to entertain the presumption of designing upon you.
L. Flip. 'Twere no such presumption neither.
Dap. Come away; 'sdeath! don't you see your danger?
Ran. Those aims are for Sir Simon.—Good night, madam.
L. Flip. Will you needs go, then?—[To Sir Simon] The gentlemen are a-going, Sir Simon; will you let 'em?
Sir Sim. Nay, madam, if you cannot keep 'em, how should I?
L. Flip. Stay, sir; because you hate marriage, I'll sing you a new song against it. [Sings.
A spouse I do hate,
For either she's false or she's jealous;
But give us a mate
Who nothing will ask us or tell us.
She stands on no terms,
Nor chaffers, by way of indenture,
Her love for your farms;
But takes her kind man at a venture.
If all prove not right,
Without an act, process, or warning,
From wife for a night
You may be divorced in the morning.
When parents are slaves,
Their brats cannot be any other;
Great wits and great braves
Have always a punk[31] to their mother.