wife!

_Dor._ Well, thou art the dullest husband, thou art never to be
provoked.

_Rho._ I was never thought dull till I married thee; and now thou hast
made an old knife of me; thou hast whetted me so long, till I have no
edge left.

_Dor._ I see you are in the husband's fashion; you reserve all your
good humours for your mistresses, and keep your ill for your wives.

_Rho._ Prythee leave me to my own cogitations; I am thinking over all
my sins, to find for which of them it was I married thee.

_Dor._ Whatever your sin was, mine's the punishment.

_Rho._ My comfort is, thou art not immortal; and, when that blessed,
that divine day comes of thy departure, I'm resolved I'll make one
holiday more in the almanack for thy sake.

_Dor._ Ay, you had need make a holiday for me, for I am sure you have
made me a martyr.

_Rho._ Then, setting my victorious foot upon thy head, in the first
hour of thy silence, (that is, the first hour thou art dead, for I
despair of it before) I will swear by thy ghost,--an oath as terrible
to me as Styx is to the gods,--never more to be in danger of the banes
of matrimony.

_Dor._ And I am resolved to marry the very same day thou diest, if it
be but to show how little I'm concerned for thee.

_Rho._ Pray thee, Doralice, why do we quarrel thus a-days? ha! this is
but a kind of heathenish life, and does not answer the ends of
marriage. If I have erred, propound what reasonable atonement may be
made before we sleep, and I will not be refractory; but withal
consider, I have been married these three years, and be not too
tyrannical.

_Dor._ What should you talk of a peace a-bed, when you can give no
security for performance of articles?

_Rho._ Then, since we must live together, and both of us stand upon
our terms, as to matters of dying first, let us make ourselves as
merry as we can with our misfortunes. Why, there's the devil on't! if
thou could'st make my enjoying thee but a little easy, or a little
more unlawful, thou should'st see what a termagant lover I would
prove. I have taken such pains to enjoy thee, Doralice, that I have
fancied thee all the fine women of the town--to help me out: But now
there's none left for me to think on, my imagination is quite jaded.
Thou art a wife, and thou wilt be a wife, and I can make thee another
no longer. [_Exit_ RHO.

_Dor._ Well, since thou art a husband, and wilt be a husband, I'll try
if I