is of the Widow--

_Selby._ 'Twas a bolt
At random shot; but if it hit, believe me,
I am most sorry to have wounded you
Through a friend's side. I know not how we have swerved
From our first talk. I was to caution you
Against this fault of a too grateful nature:
Which, for some girlish obligations past,
In that relenting season of the heart,
When slightest favors pass for benefits
Of endless binding, would entail upon you
An iron slavery of obsequious duty
To the proud will of an imperious woman.

_Kath_. The favors are not slight to her I owe.

_Selby_. Slight or not slight, the tribute she exacts
Cancels all dues-- [_A voice within_.
even now I hear her call you
In such a tone, as lordliest mistresses
Expect a slave's attendance. Prithee, Kate.
Let her expect a brace of minutes or so.
Say you are busy. Use her by degrees
To some less hard exactions.

_Kath_. I conjure you,
Detain me not. I will return--

_Selby_. Sweet wife,
Use thy own pleasure-- [_Exit_ KATHERINE.
but it troubles me.
A visit of three days, as was pretended,
Spun to ten tedious weeks, and no hint given
When she will go! I would this buxom Widow
Were a thought handsomer! I'd fairly try
My Katherine's constancy; make desperate love
In seeming earnest; and raise up such broils,
That she, not I, should be the first to warn
The insidious guest depart.

_Reenter_ KATHERINE.

So soon return'd!
What was our Widow's will?

_Kath_. A trifle, sir.

_Selby_. Some toilet service--to adjust her head,
Or help to stick a pin in the right place--

_Kath_. Indeed 'twas none of these.

_Selby._ Or new vamp up
The tarnish'd cloak she came in. I have seen her
Demand such service from thee, as her maid,
Twice told to do it, would blush angry-red,
And pack her few clothes up. Poor fool! fond slave!
And yet my dearest Kate!--This day at least
(It is our wedding-day) we spend in freedom,
And will forget our Widow. Philip, our coach--
Why weeps my wife? You know, I promised you
An airing o'er the pleasant Hampshire downs
To the blest cottage on the green hill-side,
Where first I told my love. I wonder much,
If the crimson parlor hath exchanged its hue
For colors not so welcome. Faded though it be,
It will not show less lovely than the tinge
Of this fa