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Horn. What do you call shadows of men? Dor. Half-men. Horn. What, boys? Dor. Ay, your old boys, old beaux garcons, who, like superannuated stallions, are suffered to run, feed, and whinny with the mares as long as they live, though they can do nothing else. Horn. Well, a pox on love and wenching! Women serve but to keep a man from better company. Though I cant enjoy them, I shall you the more. Good fellowship and friendship are lasting, rational, and manly pleasures. Har. For all that, give me some of those pleasures you call effeminate too; they help to relish one another. Horn. They disturb one another. Har. No, mistresses are like books. If you pore upon them too much, they doze you, and make you unfit for company; but if used discreetly, you are the fitter for conversation by em. Dor. A mistress should be like a little country retreat near the town; not to dwell in constantly, but only for a night and away, to taste the town the better when a man returns. Horn. I tell you, tis as hard to be a good fellow, a good friend, and a lover of women, as tis to be a good fellow, a good friend, and a lover of money. You cannot follow both, then choose your side. Wine gives you liberty, loves takes it away. Dor. Gad, hes in the right ont. Horn. Wine gives you joy; love, grief and tortures, besides surgeons. Wine makes us witty; love, only sots. Wine makes us sleep; love breaks it. Dor. By the world he has reason, Harcourt. Horn. Wine makes Dor. Ay, wine makes usmakes us princes; love makes us beggars, poor rogues, egadand wine Horn. So, theres one converted.No, no. love and wine, oil and vinegar. Har. I grant it; love will still be uppermost. Horn. Come, for my part, I will have only those glorious manly pleasures of being very drunk and very slovenly. Enter Boy. Boy. Mr. Sparkish is below, sir. [Exit. Har. What, my dear friend! a rogue that is fond of me only, I think, for abusing him. Dor. No, he can no more think the men laugh at him than that women jilt him; his opinion of himself is so good. |
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