For as for you, I’m well enough assur’d,
No fault can make you worse.
Sostra. But prithee, husband,
How can you tell that her aversion to me
Is not a mere pretense, that she may stay
The longer with her mother?
Lach. No such thing.
Was not your visit yesterday a proof,
From their denial to admit you to her?
Sostra. They said she was so sick she could not see me.