Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where noble fellows strike: [war] is no strife
To the dark house and the [detested] wife.
Par. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure?
285
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
I'll send her straight away: [to-morrow]
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.
Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard:
A young man married is a man that's marr'd: