Æmi. Well, sir, however you carry it, 'tis I have reason to complain; but the mildness of my disposition and enjoined obedience will not permit me, though indeed your wantonness and ill-carriage have sufficiently provoked me.
Lor. Provoked you! I provoked you? As if any fault in a husband should warrant the like in his wife! No: 'twas thy lust and mightiness of desire, that is so strong within thee. Had'st thou no company, no masculine object to look upon, yet thy own fancy were able to create a creature, with whom thou might'st commit, though not an actual, yet a mental wickedness.
Æmi. What recompense can you make me for those slanderous conceits, when they shall be proved false to you?
Lor. Hear me, thou base woman! thou that art the abstract of all ever yet was bad; with whom mischief is so incorporate, that you are both one piece together; and but that you go still hand in hand, the devil were not sufficient to encounter with; for thou art indeed able to instruct him! Do not imagine with this frontless impudence to stand daring of me: I can be angry, and as quick in the execution of it, I can.
Æmi. Be as angry as you please; truth and honesty will be confident, in despite of you: those are virtues that will look justice itself in the face.
Lor. Ay, but where are they? Not a-near you; thou would'st blast them to behold thee: scarce, I think, in the world, especially such worlds as you women are.
Æmi. Hum! to see, what an easy matter it is to let a jealous, peevish husband go on, and rebuke him at pleasure!
Lor. So lewd and stubborn!—mads me. Speak briefly, what objection can you allege against me or for yourself.
Æmi. None, alas, against you! You are virtuous; but you think you can act the Jupiter, to blind me with your escapes and concealed trulls: yet I am not so simple, but I can play the Juno, and find out your exploits.
Lor. What exploits? What concealed trulls?