MRS FOS. Ay, ay, physicians 'minister with ease, Although the patient do receive in pain: Would I could think but of one joyful hour! CLOWN. You have had two husbands to my knowledge; and if you had not one joyful hour between both, I would you were hanged, i' faith. [_Aside._ MRS FOS. Full fourteen years I liv'd a weary maid, Thinking no joy till I had got a husband. CLOWN. That was a tedious time indeed. [_Aside._ MRS FOS. I had one lov'd me well, and then ere long I grew into my longing peevishness. CLOWN. There was some pleasure ere you came to that. [_Aside._ MRS FOS. Then all the kindness that he would apply, Nothing could please: soon after it he died. CLOWN. That could be but little grief. [_Aside._ MRS FOS. Then worldly care did so o'erload my weakness, That I must have a second stay; I chose again, And there begins my griefs to multiply. WID. It cannot be, friend; your husband's kind. DOC. A man of fair condition, well-reputed. CLOWN. But it may be he has not that should please her. WID. Peace, sirrah! How can your sorrows increase from him? MRS FOS. How can they but o'erwhelm me? He keeps a son, That makes my state his prodigality; To him a brother, one of the city scandals. The one the hand, the other is the maw; And between both my goods are swallowed up. The full quantity that I brought amongst 'em Is now consum'd to half. WID. The fire of your spleen wastes it: Good sooth, gossip, I could laugh at thee, and only grieve I have not some cause of sorrow with thee: Prythee, be temperate, and suffer. DOC. 'Tis good counsel, mistress; receive it so. WID. Canst thou devise to lay them half on me? And I'll bear 'em willingly. MRS FOS. Would I could! that I might laugh another while: But you are wise to heed at others' harms; You'll keep you happy in your widowhood. WID. Not I, in good faith, were I sure marriage Would make me unhappy. MRS FOS. Try, try, you shall not need to wish; You'll sing another song, and bear a part In my grief's descant, when you're vex'd at heart: Your second choice will differ from the first; So oft as widows marry, they are accurs'd. CLOWN. Ay, cursed widows are; but if they had all stiff husbands to tame 'em, they'd be quiet enough. WID. You'll be gone, sir, and see dinner ready. CLOWN. I care not if I do, mistress, now my stomach's ready; Yet I'll stay a little, an't be but to vex you. WID. When go you, sirrah? CLOWN. I will not go yet. WID. Ha, ha, ha! thou makest me laugh at thee; prythee, stay. CLOWN. Nay, then, I'll go to vex you. [_Exit_ CLOWN. MRS FOS. You have a light heart, gossip.