Vot. Heart! I grow fond myself! 'twas well she wak'd me,
Before the dead sleep of adultery took me;
'Twas stealing on me; up, you honest thoughts,
And keep watch for your master! I must hence;
I do not like my health, 't has a strange relish:
Pray heav'n I pluck'd mine eyes back time enough.
I'll never see her more: I prais'd the garden,
But little thought a bed of snakes lay hid in't.
[Aside, as he is retiring.
Wife. I know not how I am! I'll call my woman—
Stay! for I fear thou art too far gone already.
Vot. I'll see her but once more; do thy worst, love!
Thou art too young, fond boy, to master me.
[Aside.
Votarius returns.
I come to tell you, madam, and that plainly,
I'll see your face no more, take't how you please.
Wife. You will not offer violence to me, sir,
In my lord's absence? what, does that touch you,
If I want comfort?
Vot. Will you take your answer?