Flip. Cods-fish, strike him, Madam, and let my Lady go your halves. There's no sin in plundering a husband, so his wife has share of the booty.
Aram. Whenever she gives me her orders, I shall be very ready to obey 'em.
Clar. Why, as odd a thing as such a project may seem, Araminta, I believe I shall have a little serious discourse with you about it. But, pr'ythee, tell me how you have pass'd the night? For I am sure your mind has been roving upon some pretty thing or other.
Aram. Why, I have been studying all the ways my brain could produce to plague my husband.
Clar. No wonder indeed you look so fresh this morning, after the satisfaction of such pleasing ideas all night.
Aram. Why, can a woman do less than study mischief, when she has tumbled and toss'd herself into a burning-fever, for want of sleep, and sees a fellow lie snoring by her, stock-still, in a fine breathing sweat?
Clar. Now see the difference of women's tempers: If my dear would make but one nap of his whole life, and only waken to make his will, I shou'd be the happiest wife in the universe. But we'll discourse more of these matters as we go, for I must make a tour among the Shops.
Aram. I have a coach waits at the door, we'll talk of 'em as we rattle along.
Clar. The best place in nature, for you know a hackney-coach is a natural enemy to a husband.