Frank. No, no, my Winnifred.
Sus. How say you? Winnifred! you forget me.
Frank. No, I forget myself!—Susan.
Sus. In what?
Frank. Talking of wives, I pretend Winnifred,
A maid that at my mother’s waited on me
Before thyself.
Sus. I hope, sir, she may live
To take my place: but why should all this move you?
Frank. The poor girl!—[Aside.] she has’t before thee,
And that’s the fiend torments me.
Sus. Yet why should this
Raise mutiny within you? such presages
Prove often false: or say it should be true?
Frank. That I should have another wife?
Sus. Yes, many;
If they be good, the better.