Hus. Plague o' your carriage! why, he kiss'd your hand,
Look'd babies in your eyes, and wink'd and pink'd.
You thought I had esteem'd him! 'Sblood, you whore!
Do not I know that you do know you lie?
When didst thou hear me say and mean one thing?
O, I could kick you now, and tear your face,
And eat thy breasts like udders.
Wife. Sir, you may,
But if I know what hath deserv'd all this,
I am no woman: 'cause he kiss'd my hand
Unwillingly?
Hus. A little louder, pray.
Wife. You are a base fellow, an unworthy man,
As e'er poor gentlewoman match'd withal.
Why should you make such show of love to any
Without the truth? thy beastly mind is like
Some decay'd tradesman, that doth make his wife
Entertain those for gain he not endures.
Pish! swell and burst: I had rather with thy sword
Be hew'd to pieces, than lead such a life.
Out with it, valiant sir: I hold you for
A drawer upon women, not on men.
I will no more conceal your hollow heart,
But e'en report you as you are in truth.
Hus. This is call'd marriage. Stop your mouth, you whore.
Wife. Thy mother was a whore, if I be one.
Hus. You know there's company in the house.
Enter Subtle.
Sweet friend, what, have you writ your letter?