The Devil is an Ass

by Ben Jonson

Act. II. Scene. VII.

Fitz-dottrell. Wittipol. Pvg.

Her huſband appeares at her back. Is shee ſo, Sir? and, I will keepe her ſo. If I know how, or can: that wit of man Will doe’t, I’ll goe no farther. At this windo’ She ſhall no more be buz’d at. Take your leaue on’t. If you be ſweet meates, wedlock, or ſweet fleſh, 5 All’s one: I doe not loue this hum about you. A flye-blowne wife is not ſo proper, In: [125]  For you, S^r, looke to heare from mee.

Hee ſpeakes out of his wiues window.

Wit. So, I doe, Sir.

Fit. No, but in other termes. There’s no man offers This to my wife, but paies for’t.

Wit. That haue I, Sir.

Fit. Nay, then, I tell you, you are.

Wit. What am I, Sir? 11

Fit. Why, that I’ll thinke on, when I ha’ cut your throat.