You Sir, that
Would have me Mother Bastards, being unable
To honour me with one Child of mine own,
That underneath my roof, kept your cast-Strumpet,
And out of my Revenues would maintain
Her riotous issue: now you find what 'tis
To tempt a woman: with as little feeling
As I turn off a slave, that is unfit
To doe me service; or a horse, or dog
That have out-liv'd their use, I shake thee off,