he blast:--Come, don't make
yourself worse-natured than you are; to save my life, you would be
content I should promise any thing.

_Mor._ Yes, if I were sure you would perform nothing.

_Ant._ Can you suspect I would leave you for Johayma?

_Mor._ No; but I can expect you would have both of us. Love is
covetous; I must have all of you; heart for heart is an equal trick.
In short, I am younger, I think handsomer, and am sure I love you
better. She has been my stepmother these fifteen years: You think that
is her face you see, but it is only a daubed vizard; she wears an
armour of proof upon it; an inch thick of paint, besides the wash. Her
face is so fortified, that you can make no approaches to it without a
shovel; but, for her constancy, I can tell you for your comfort, she
will love till death, I mean till yours; for when she has worn you
out, she will certainly dispatch you to another world, for fear of
telling tales, as she has already served three slaves, your
predecessors, of happy memory, in her favours. She has made my pious
father a three-piled cuckold to my knowledge; and now she would be
robbing me of my single sheep too.

_Ant._ Pr'ythee, prevent her then; and at least take the shearing of
me first.

_Mor._ No; I'll have a butcher's pennyworth of you; first secure the
carcase, and then take the fleece into the bargain.

_Ant._ Why, sure, you did not put yourself and me to all this trouble
for a dry come-off; by this hand-- [_Taking it._

_Mor._ Which you shall never touch, but upon better assurances than
you imagine. [_Pulling her hand away._

_Ant._ I'll marry thee, and make a Christian of thee, thou pretty
damned infidel.

_Mor._ I mean you shall; but no earnest till the bargain be made
before witness: there is love enough to be had, and as much as you can
turn you to, never doubt; but all upon honourable terms.

_Ant._ I vow and swear by Love; and he's a deity in all religions.

_Mor._ But never to be trusted in any: he has another name too, of a
worse sound. Shall I trust an oath, when I see your eyes languishing,
your cheeks flushing, and can hear your heart throbbing? No, I'll not
come near you: he's a foolish physician, who will feel the pulse of a
patient, that has the plague-spots upon him.

_Ant._ Did one ever hear a little moppet argue so perversely against
so good a cause! Come, pr'ythee, let me anticipate a little of my
revenu