When? By Moon-Light? For I'm sure she dares not
encounter with the heat of the Sun; that were a Task only for Don
Vincentio and his Indian Breeding, who loves it in the Dog-days- And
if these be her daily Divertisements, what are those of the Night? to
lie in a wide Moth-eaten Bed-Chamber with Furniture in Fashion in the
Reign of King Sancho the First; the Bed that which his Forefathers
liv'd and dy'd in. Pedro. Very well. Hell. This Apartment (new
furbisht and fitted out for the young Wife) he (out of Freedom) makes
his Dressing-room; and being a frugal and a jealous Coxcomb, instead
of a Valet to uncase his feeble Carcase, he desires you to do that
Office- Signs of Favour, I'll assure you, and such as you must not
hope for, unless your Woman be out of the way. Pedro. Have you done
yet? Hell. That Honour being past, the Giant stretches it self, yawns
and sighs a Belch or two as loud as a Musket, throws himself into Bed,
and expects you in his foul Sheets, and e'er you can get your self
undrest, calls you with a Snore or two- And are not these fine
Blessings to a young Lady? Pedro. Have you done yet? Hell. And this
man you must kiss, nay, you must kiss nay but him too- and nuzle thro
his Beard to find his Lips- and this you must submit to for threescore
Years, and all for a Jointure.
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