Omnes. How!
L. Nin. Before God, you are a wicked fellow to speak on't in this manner, if you have.
Strange. Lain with her?
Capt. Pouts. Yes. Good morrow. God give ye joy.
[Exit CAPTAIN POUTS.
Sir J. Wor. I am speechless with my anger. Follow him!
If it be true, let her be prov'd a whore:
If false, he shall abide the slander dearly.
Abra. Follow that list: I will not meddle with him.
Sir J. Wor. Why speak'st not thou to reconcile those looks,
That fight stern battles in thy husband's face?
Kath. Thou art not so unworthy to believe him.
If I did think thou didst, I would not open
My lips to satisfy so base a thought,
Sprung from the slander of so base a slave.
Strange. It cannot be! I'll tell you by to-morrow.
I am no fool, Kate. I will find some time
To talk with this same captain. Pouts d'ye call him?
I'll be wi' ye to-night.
Kath. Sir, you shall not.
What stain my honour hath received by this
Base villain, all the world takes notice of.
Mark what I vow, and if I keep it not,
May I be so given o'er, to let this rogue
Perform his slander. Thou that wert ordained,
And in thy cradle mark'd to call me wife,
And in that title made as my defence,
Yet sufferedst him to go away with life,
Wounding my honour dead before thy face;
Redeem it on his head, and his own way,
Ev'n by the sword, his long profession,
And bring it on thy neck out of the field,
And set it clear amongst the tongues of men,
That all eyes may discern it slandered,
Or thou shalt ne'er enjoy me as a wife.
By this bright sun, thou shalt not! Nay, I'll think
As abjectly of thee as any mongrel
Bred in the city: such a citizen
As the plays flout still, and is made the subject
Of all the stages. Be this true or no,
'Tis thy best course to fight.