HUSBAND. Speedily, speedily. I hate the very hour I chose a wife: a trouble, trouble! three children like three evils hang upon me. Fie, fie, fie, strumpet and bastards, strumpet and bastards! [Enter three Gentlemen hearing him.] 1 GENTLEMAN. Still do those loathsome thoughts Jar on your tongue? Your self to stain the honour of your wife, Nobly descended! Those whom men call mad Endanger others; but he’s more than mad That wounds himself, whose own words do proclaim Scandals unjust, to soil his better name: It is not fit; I pray, forsake it. 2 GENTLEMAN. Good sir, let modesty reprove you. 3 GENTLEMAN. Let honest kindness sway so much with you. HUSBAND. God den, I thank you, sir, how do you? adieu! I’m glad to see you. Farewell Instructions, Admonitions. [Exeunt Gentlemen.] [Enter a servant.] HUSBAND. How now, sirra; what would you? SERVANT. Only to certify you, sir, that my mistress was met by the way, by them who were sent for her up to London by her honorable uncle, your worships late guardian. HUSBAND. So, sir, then she is gone and so may you be: But let her look that the thing be done she wots of: or hell will stand more pleasant then her house at home. [Exit servant.] [Enter a Gentleman.] GENTLEMAN. Well or ill met, I care not. HUSBAND. No, nor I. GENTLEMAN. I am come with confidence to chide you. HUSBAND. Who? me? Chide me? Doo’t finely then: let it not move me, For if thou chidst me angry, I shall strike. GENTLEMAN. Strike thine own follies, for it is they deserve To be well beaten. We are now in private: There’s none but thou and I. Thou’rt fond and peevish, An unclean rioter: thy lands and Credit Lie now both sick of a consumption. I am sorry for thee: that man spends with shame That with his riches does consume his name: And such thou art. HUSBAND. Peace. GENTLEMAN. No, thou shalt hear me further: Thy fathers and forefathers worthy honors, Which were our country monuments, our grace, Follies in thee begin now to deface. The spring time of thy youth did fairly promise Such a most fruitful summer to thy friends It scarce can enter into mens beliefs, Such dearth should hang on thee. We that see it, Are sorry to believe it: in thy change, This voice into all places will be hurld: Thou and the devil has deceived the world. HUSBAND. I’ll not indure thee. GENTLEMAN. But of all the worst: Thy vertuous wife, right honourably allied, Thou hast proclaimed a strumpet. HUSBAND. Nay, the, I know thee. Thou art her champion, thou, her private friend, The party you wot on. GENTLEMAN. Oh ignoble thought. I am past my patient blood: shall I stand idle And see my reputation toucht to death? HUSBAND. Ta’s galde you, this, has it? GENTLEMAN. No, monster, I will prove My thoughts did only tend to vertuous love. HUSBAND. Love of her vertues? there it goes. GENTLEMEN. Base spirit, To lay thy hate upon the fruitful Honor Of thine own bed. [They fight and the Husband’s hurt.] HUSBAND. Oh! GENTLEMAN. Woult thou yield it yet?