I will for ever hold thee in contempt,
And never touch the sheets that cover thee,
But be divorst in bed till thou consent,
Thy dowry shall be sold to give new life
Unto those pleasures which I most affect.
WIFE.
Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me,
And what the law shall give me leave to do
You shall command.
HUSBAND.
Look it be done: shall I want dust and like a slave
Wear nothing in my pockets but my hands
To fill them up with nails?
[holding his hands in his pockets]
Oh much against my blood! Let it be done.
I was never made to be a looker on,
A bawd to dice; I’ll shake the drabs my self
And made em yield. I say, look it be done.
WIFE.
I take my leave: it shall.
[Exit.]
HUSBAND. Speedily, speedily. I hate the very hour I chose a wife: a trouble, trouble! three children like three evils hang upon me. Fie, fie, fie, strumpet and bastards, strumpet and bastards!
[Enter three Gentlemen hearing him.]
1 GENTLEMAN.
Still do those loathsome thoughts
Jar on your tongue?
Your self to stain the honour of your wife,
Nobly descended! Those whom men call mad
Endanger others; but he’s more than mad
That wounds himself, whose own words do proclaim
Scandals unjust, to soil his better name:
It is not fit; I pray, forsake it.