Win. Can you name
That syllable of good, and yet not tremble
To think to what a foul and black intent
You use it for an oath? Let me resolve[414] you:
If you appear in any visitation
That brings not with it pity for the wrongs
Done to abusèd Thorney, my kind husband,—
If you infect mine ear with any breath
That is not thoroughly perfumed with sighs
For former deeds of lust,—may I be cursed
Even in my prayers, when I vouchsafe
To see or hear you! I will change my life
From a loose whore to a repentant wife.
Sir Arth. Wilt thou turn monster now? art not ashamed
After so many months to be honest at last?
Away, away! fie on’t!
Win. My resolution
Is built upon a rock. This very day
Young Thorney vowed, with oaths not to be doubted,
That never any change of love should cancel
The bonds in which we are to either bound
Of lasting truth: and shall I, then, for my part
Unfile the sacred oath set on record
In Heaven’s book? Sir Arthur, do not study
To add to your lascivious lust the sin
Of sacrilege; for if you but endeavour
By any unchaste word to tempt my constancy
You strive as much as in you lies to ruin
A temple hallowed to the purity
Of holy marriage. I have said enough;
You may believe me.
Sir Arth. Get you to your nunnery;
There freeze in your cold cloister: this is fine!
Win. Good angels guide me! Sir, you’ll give me leave
To weep and pray for your conversion?
Sir Arth. Yes:
Away to Waltham! Pox on your honesty!
Had you no other trick to fool me? well,
You may want money yet.
Win. None that I’ll send for
To you, for hire of a damnation.
When I am gone, think on my just complaint:
I was your devil; O, be you my saint! [Exit.
Sir Arth. Go, go thy ways; as changeable a baggage
As ever cozened knight: I’m glad I’m rid of her.
Honest! marry, hang her! Thorney is my debtor;
I thought to have paid him too; but fools have fortune. [Exit.
