Blunt. Hey day! 'Sheartlikins, Simile!
by this Light the Man is quite spoil'd- Frederick, what the Devil are
we made of, that we cannot be thus concerned for a Wench?-
'Sheartlikins, our Cupids are like the Cooks of the Camp, they can
roast or boil a Woman, but they have none of the fine Tricks to set
'em off, no Hogoes to make the Sauce pleasant, and the Stomach sharp.
Fred. I dare swear I have had a hundred as young, kind and handsom as
this Florinda; and Dogs eat me, if they were not as troublesom to me
i'th' Morning, as they were welcome o'er night. Blunt. And yet, I
warrant, he wou'd not touch another Woman, if he might have her for
nothing. Belv. That's thy joy, a cheap Whore. Blunt. Why,
'dsheartlikins, I love a frank Soul- When did you ever hear of an
honest Woman that took a Man's Mony? I warrant 'em good ones- But,
Gentlemen, you may be free, you have been kept so poor with
Parliaments and Protectors, that the little Stock you have is not
worth preserving- but I thank my Stars, I have more Grace than to
forfeit my Estate by Cavaliering. Belv. Methinks only following the
Court should be sufficient to entitle 'em to that. Blunt.
'Sheartlikins, they know I follow it to do it no good, unless they
pick a hole in my Coat for lending you Mony now and then; which is a
greater Crime to my Conscience, Gentlemen, than to the Common-wealth.
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