SCENE II.

_+Warehouse+, +Dorcas+._

+Ware.+ My dearest Dorcas, welcome. Here you see The house you must be mistress of, which with This kiss I do confirm unto you.

+Dor.+ Forbear, sir.

+Ware.+ How! wife, refuse to kiss me?

+Dor.+ Yes, unless A sweeter air came from you; y' have turned my stomach. I wonder you can be so rude to ask me, Knowing your lungs are perish'd.

+Ware.+ This is rare, That I should live to this great age, and never Till now know I was rotten!

+Dor.+ I shall never Endure your conversation: I hope you have Contriv'd two beds, two chambers, and two tables. It is an article, that I should live Retir'd--that is, apart.

+Ware.+ But pray you, wife, are you in earnest?

+Dor.+ D'you think I'll jest with age?

+Ware.+ Will you not lie with me, then?

+Dor.+ Did ever man Of your hairs ask such questions? I do blush At your unreasonableness.

+Ware.+ Nay, then----

+Dor.+ Is't fit I should be buried?

+Ware.+ I reach you not.

+Dor.+ Why, to lie with you were a direct emblem Of going to my grave.

+War.+ I understand you.

+Dor.+ I'll have your picture set in my weddingring For a Death's head.

+Ware.+ I do conceive you.

+Dor.+ I'd Rather lie with an ancient tomb, or embrace An ancestor than you. D'you think I'll come Between your winding-sheets? For what? To hear you Depart all night, and fetch your last groan; and I' th' morning find a deluge on the floor; Your entrails floating, and half my husband spit Upon the arras.

+Ware.+ I am married----

+Dor.+ Then, For your abilities, should twelve good women Sit on these reverend locks, and on your heat And natural appetite, they would just find you As youthful as a coffin, and as hot As the sultry winter that froze o'er the Thames-- They say the hard time did begin from you.

+Ware.+ Good, I am made the curse of watermen.

+Dor.+ Your humours come frost from you, and your nose Hath icicles in June.

+Ware.+ Assist me, patience! Why, hear you, mistress--you that have a fever And dog-days in your blood--if you knew this, Why did you marry me?

+Dor.+ Ha, ha, ha!

+Ware.+ She laughs.

+Dor.+ That your experienc'd age,[258] that hath felt springs And falls this forty years, should be so dull To think I have not them that shall supply Your cold defects!

+Ware.+ You have your servants, then, And I am fork'd? hum!

+Dor.+ Do you think A woman young, high in her blood----

+Ware.+ And hot As goats or marmosites----

+Dor.+ Apt to take flame at Every temptation----

+Ware.+ And to kindle at The picture of a man----

+Dor.+ Would wed dust, ashes, A monument, unless she were----

+Ware.+ Crack'd, tried, and broken up?

+Dor.+ Right, sir, or lack'd a cloak?

+Ware.+ Mischief and hell! and was there none to make Your cloak but I?

+Dor.+ Not so well-lin'd!

+Ware.+ O, you Stay'd for a wealthy cuckold; your tame beast Must have his gilded horns?

+Dor.+ Yes, sir; besides, Your age being impotent, you would, I knew, In conscience wink at my stol'n helps, if I Took comfort from abroad.

+Ware.+ Yes, yes; yes, yes! You shall be comforted: I will maintain A stallion for you.

+Dor.+ I will have friends come to me. So you'll conceal----

+Ware.+ Alas! I'll be your pander; Deliver letters for you, and keep the door.

+Dor.+ I'll have a woman shall do that.

+Ware.+ O impudence! Unheard-of impudence!

+Dor.+ Then, sir, I'll look Your coffers shall maintain me at my rate.

+Ware.+ How's that?

+Dor.+ Why, like a lady; for I do mean To have you knighted.

+Ware.+ I shall rise to honour.

+Dor.+ D'you think I'll have your factor move before me, Like a device stirr'd by a wire, or like Some grave clock wound up to a regular pace?

+Ware.+ No, you shall have your usher, dame, to stalk Before you, like a buskin'd prologue,[259] in A stately, high, majestic motion, bare.

+Dor.+ I do expect it: yes, sir, and my coach, Six horses and postillion; four are fit For them that have a charge of children: you And I shall never have any.

+Ware.+ If we have, All Middlesex is father.

+Dor.+ Then I'll have My footman to run by me when I visit, Or take the air sometimes in Hyde Park.

+Ware.+ You, Besides being chaste, are good at races too: You can be a jockey for a need?

+Dor.+ Y' are pleasant, sir.

+Ware.+ Why, hark you, hark you, mistress; you told me You lov'd retirement, loved not visits, and bargain'd I should not carry you abroad.

+Dor.+ You! no. Is't fit I should be seen at court with you? Such an odd sight as you would make the ladies Have melancholy thoughts.

+Ware.+ You bound me, too, I should not go to sea: you lov'd me so, You could not be without me.

+Dor.+ Not if you stay'd Above a year; for should I, in a long voyage, Prove fruitful, I should want a father to The infant.

+Ware.+ Most politicly kind, And, like a whore, perfect i' th' mystery! It is beyond my sufferance.

+Dor.+ Pray, sir, vex [not]: I'll in and see your jewels, and make choice Of some for every day; and some to wear At masques. [_Exit._

+Ware.+ 'Tis very good. Two days Of this I shall grow mad; or, to redeem Myself, commit some outrage. O--O--O!