Wife. Well, sir, since you've begun to make my lord
A doubtful man of me, keep on that course,
And ply his faith still with that poor belief,
That I'm inclining unto wantonness,
Take heed you pass no further now.
Vot. Why, dost think
I'll be twice mad together in one moon?
That were too much for any freeman's son
After his father's funeral.
Wife. Well then thus, sir:
Upholding still the same, as being embolden'd
By some loose glance of mine, you shall attempt,
After you've plac'd my lord in some near closet,
To thrust yourself into my chamber rudely,
As if the game went forward to your thinking,
Then leave the rest to me. I'll so reward thee
With bitterness of words, but (prythee, pardon me)
My lord shall swear me into honesty
Enough to serve his mind all his life after;
Nay, for a need, I'll draw some rapier forth,
That shall come near my hand as 'twere by chance,
And set a lively face upon my rage;
But fear thou nothing: I too dearly love thee
To let harm touch thee.
Vot. O, it likes me rarely,
I'll choose a precious time for it. [Exit Votarius.
Wife. Go thy ways; I'm glad I had it for thee.
Enter Leonella.
Leo. Madam, my lord entreats your company.
Wife. Pshaw, ye!
Leo. Pshaw, ye! My lord entreats your company.
Wife. What now?
Are ye so short-heel'd?