VAL. My friend, what to do? I am no married man, and thou canst
not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow
money of me. Then what employment have I for a friend?

TATT. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret.

ANG. Do you know me, Valentine?

VAL. Oh, very well.

ANG. Who am I?

VAL. You're a woman. One to whom heav'n gave beauty, when it
grafted roses on a briar. You are the reflection of heav'n in a
pond, and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, a sheet
of lovely, spotless paper, when you first are born; but you are to
be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I
loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found out a strange
thing: I found out what a woman was good for.

TATT. Ay, prithee, what's that?

VAL. Why, to keep a secret.

TATT. O Lord!

VAL. Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for though she should
tell, yet she is not to be believed.