[103]: Vanbrugh, Provoked Wife.
[104]: After his man and he had rolled about the room, like sick passengers in a storm, he comes flounce in the bed, dead as a salmon into a fishmonger's basket; his feet cold as ice, his breath hot as a furnace, and his hands and his face as greasy as his flannel nightcap. O matrimony! He tosses up the clothes with a barbarous swing over his shoulders, disorders the whole economy of my bed, bares me half naked, and my whole night's comfort is the tunable serenade of that wakeful nightingale, his nose!
[105]: Why did I marry! I married because I had a mind to lie with her, and she would not let me....
Ay, damn morality!—and damn the watch! and let the constable be married!... Liberty and property, and Old England, huzza!...
So, now, Mr. Constable, shall you and I go pick up a whore together?—No?—Then I'll go by myself, and you and your wife may be damned!...
Whom do you call a drunken fellow, you slut you? I'm a man of quality; the king has made me a knight.... I'll devil you, you jade you! I'll demolish your ugly face!...
I'll warrant you, it is some such squeamish minx as my wife, that is grown so dainty of late, that she finds fault even with a dirty shirt.
[107]: Let us hear no more of my wife nor your mistress. Damn them both with all my heart, and every thing else that dangles a petticoat, except four generous whores, with Betty Sands at the head of them, who are drunk with my Lord Rake and I ten times in a fortnight.