Gripe. I tell thee I will not bear it.
Flip. I tell you, Sir, you will bear it.
Gripe. Oons, I have borne it three years already.
Flip. By that you see 'tis but giving your mind to it.
Gripe. My mind to it! Death and the devil! My mind to it!
Flip. Look ye, Sir, you may swear and damn, and call the furies to assist you! but 'till you apply the remedy to the right place, you'll never cure the disease. You fancy you have got an extravagant wife, is't not so?
Gripe. Pr'ythee change me that word fancy, and it is so.
Flip. Why there's it. Men are strangely troubled with the vapours of late. You'll wonder now if I tell you, you have the most reasonable wife in town: And that all the disorders you think you see in her, are only here, here, here, in your own head.
[Thumping his forehead.