Mrs. F. What matter, sir?
Selby. This idle bond of wedlock;
These sour-sweet briars, fetters of harsh silk;
I might have made, I do not say a better,
But a more fit choice in a wife.
Mrs. F. The parch'd ground,
In hottest Julys, drinks not in the showers
More greedily than I his words!
[Aside.
Selby. My humor