Y. ART. Pipkin, what said she when she sent for me?

PIP. 'Faith, master, she said little, but she thought
[The] more, for she was very melancholy.

Y. ART. Did I not tell you she was melancholy,
For nothing else but that she sent for me,
And fearing I would come to dine with her.

Y. LUS. O, you mistake her; even, upon my soul,
I durst affirm you wrong her chastity.
See where she doth attend your coming home.

_Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR.

MRS ART. Come, Master Arthur, shall we in to dinner?
Sirrah, begone, and see it served in.

Y. LUS. Will you not speak unto her?

Y. ART. No, not I; will you go in, sir.

MRS ART. Not speak to me! nor once look towards me!
It is my duty to begin, I know,
And I will break this ice of courtesy.
You are welcome home, sir.

Y. ART. Hark, Master Lusam, if she mock me not!
_You are welcome home, sir_. Am I welcome home?
Good faith, I care not if I be or no.

Y. LUS. Thus you misconstrue all things, Master Arthur.
Look, if her true love melt not into tears.

Y. ART. She weeps, but why? that I am come so soon,
To hinder her of some appointed guests,
That in my absence revel in my house:
She weeps to see me in her company,
And, were I absent, she would laugh with joy.
She weeps to make me weary of the house,
Knowing my heart cannot away with grief.

MRS ART. Knew I that mirth would make you love my bed,
I would enforce my heart to be more merry.

Y. ART. Do you not hear? she would enforce her heart!
All mirth is forc'd, that she can make with me.

Y. LUS. O misconceit, how bitter is thy taste!
Sweet Master Arthur, Mistress Arthur too,
Let me entreat you reconcile these jars,
Odious to heaven, and most abhorr'd of men.

MRS ART. You are a stranger, sir; but by your words
You do appear an honest gentleman.
If you profess to be my husband's friend,
Persist in these persuasions, and be judge
With all indifference in these discontents.
Sweet husband, if I be not fair enough
To please your eye, range where you list abroad,
Only, at coming home, speak me but fair:
If you delight to change, change when you please,
So that you will not change your love to me.
If you delight to see me drudge and toil,
I'll be your drudge, because 'tis your delight.
Or if you think me unworthy of the name
Of your chaste wife, I will become your maid,
Your slave, your servant--anything you will,
If for that name of servant and of slave
You will but smile upon me now and then.
Or if, a