Lady Town. In short, my Lord, if money is always the subject of our conversation, I shall make you no answer.
Lord Town. Madam, Madam! I will be heard, and make you answer.
Lady Town. Make me! then I must tell you, my Lord, this is a language I have not been us'd to, and I won't bear it.
Lord Town. Come! come, Madam, you shall bear a great deal more before I part with you.
Lady Town. My Lord, if you insult me, you will have as much to bear, on your side, I can assure you.
Lord Town. Pooh! your spirit grows ridiculous——you have neither honour, worth, or innocence, to support it!
Lady Town. You'll find, at least, I have resentment! and do you look well to the provocation!
Lord Town. After those you have given me, Madam, 'tis almost infamous to talk with you.
Lady Town. I scorn your imputation and your menaces! The narrowness of your heart's your monitor! 'tis there! there, my lord, you are wounded; you have less to complain of than many husbands of an equal rank to you.
Lord Town. Death, Madam! do you presume upon your corporal merit! that your person's less tainted, than your mind! is it there! there alone an honest husband can be injur'd? Have you not every other vice that can debase your birth, or stain the heart of woman? Is not your health, your beauty, husband, fortune, family disclaim'd, for nights consumed in riot and extravagance? The wanton does no more; if she conceals her shame, does less: And sure the dissolute avow'd, as sorely wrongs my honour, and my quiet.