Frank. In me?
Sus. In you, sir.
Awake, you seem to dream, and in your sleep
You utter sudden and distracted accents,
Like one at enmity with peace. Dear loving husband,
If I
May dare to challenge any interest in you,
Give me the reason fully; you may trust
My breast as safely as your own.
Frank. With what?
You half amaze me; prithee—
Sus. Come, you shall not,
Indeed you shall not, shut me from partaking
The least dislike that grieves you; I’m all yours.
Frank. And I all thine.
Sus. You are not, if you keep
The least grief from me: but I find the cause;
It grew from me.
Frank. From you?
Sus. From some distaste
In me or my behaviour: you’re not kind
In the concealment. ’Las, sir, I am young,
Silly and plain; more, strange to those contents
A wife should offer: say but in what I fail,
I’ll study satisfaction.
Frank. Come; in nothing.
Sus. I know I do; knew I as well in what,
You should not long be sullen. Prithee, love,
If I have been immodest or too bold,
Speak’t in a frown; if peevishly too nice,
Show’t in a smile: thy liking is the glass
By which I’ll habit my behaviour.