Fit. Ha’ To feaſt you with my land?
VVit. Sir, be you quiet, 70 Or I ſhall gag you, ere I goe, conſult Your Maſter of dependances; how to make this A ſecond buſineſſe, you haue time Sir.
VVitipol bafflees him, and goes out.
Fit. Oh! VVhat will the ghoſt of my wiſe Grandfather, My learned Father, with my worſhipfull Mother, 75 Thinke of me now, that left me in this world In ſtate to be their Heire? that am become A Cuckold, and an Aſſe, and my wiues Ward; Likely to looſe my land; ha’ my throat cut: All, by her practice!
Mer. Sir, we are all abus’d! 80
Fit. And be ſo ſtill! VVho hinders you, I pray you, Let me alone, I would enioy my ſelfe, And be the Duke o’ Drown’d-Land, you ha’ made me.
Mer. Sir, we muſt play an after-game o’ this.
Fit. But I am not in caſe to be a Gam-ſter: 85 I tell you once againe—
Mer. You muſt be rul’d And take some counſell.
Fit. Sir, I do hate counſell, As I do hate my wife, my wicked wife!