Mir. Ay, and perhaps after we have been
Married half a year, one's
Husband falls into a deep consumption,
And will not do one the favour to
Die neither, then we must be
Ever feeding him with caudles.
O, from a husband in a consumption
Deliver me!
Phil. And think how weary I should be
Of thee, Mirida, when once we were
Chain'd together: the very name of
Wife would be a vomit to me: then
Nothing but, where's my wife? call
My wife to dinner, call my wife to supper;
And then at night, come, wife, will you
Go to bed?
Mir. Ay, and that would be so troublesome
To be call'd by one's husband every night
To go to bed. O, that dull, dull
Name of husband!
Duke. Indeed you two are well met,
The world has not two more such,
I am confident.
Mir. The more the pity, sir.
Phil. No, sir, if you please, never propose
Marrying to us, till both of us have
Committed such faults as are death
By the law; then instead of
Hanging us, marry us.
Mir. And then you shall hear how
Earnestly we shall petition your
Highness to be hang'd rather than
Married.
Duke. No man can judge which is the
Wildest of these two.
Now, brave Arbatus, in all my dukedom
There is but one gift worthy thy
Receiving, and that's my sister;
Here, sir, take her as freely as heaven
Gave her me.
Arb. D'ye forgive me, sir?
Duke. Or not myself, Arbatus.
This day Hymen shall light his torch for all.