Jul. And rob my Husband of his right!
Fran. Shaw, Exchange is no Robbery.
Jul. And forsake my Virtue, and make nown Dear a Cuckold.
Fran. Shaw, most of the Heroes of the World were so;—go, prithee, Hony, go, do me the favour to cuckold me a little, if not for Love, for Charity.
Jul. Are you in earnest?
Fran. I am.
Jul. And would it not displease you?
Fran. I say, no; had it been Aquinius his Case, to have sav’d the pinching of his Gullet he wou’d have been a Cuckold. [Aside.
Jul. Fear has made you mad, or you’re bewitcht; and I’ll leave you to recover your Wits again. [Going out.
Fran. O gracious Wife, leave me not in despair; [Kneels to her and holds her.] I’m not mad, no, nor no more bewitcht than I have been these forty years; ‘tis you’re bewitcht to refuse so handsom, so young, and so—a Pox on him, she’ll ne’er relish me again after him. [Aside.