Young Geraldine. Now your tongue speaks oracles; For all the rest are nothing: ’tis for you-- Only for you I cannot. Wife. So I thought; Why, then, have you been all this while so strange? Why will you travel, suing a divorce Betwixt us of a love inseparable; For here shall I be left as desolate Unto a frozen, almost widowed bed, Warmed only in that future stored in you; For who can in your absence comfort me? Young Geraldine. [_Aside_.] Shall my oppressèd sufferance yet break forth Into impatience, or endure her more? Wife. But since by no persuasion, no entreats, Your settled obstinacy can be swayed, Though you seem desperate of your own dear life, Have care of mine, for it exists in you. Oh, sir, should you miscarry I were lost, Lost and forsaken! Then, by our past vows, And by this hand once given me, by these tears Which are but springs begetting greater floods, I do beseech thee, my dear Geraldine, Look to thy safety, and preserve thy health; Have care into what company you fall; Travel not late, and cross no dangerous seas; For till Heavens bless me in thy safe return, How will this poor heart suffer! Young Geraldine. [_Aside_.] I had thought Long since the sirens had been all destroyed; But one of them I find survives in her: She almost makes me question what I know, A heretic unto my own belief:-- O thou mankind’s seducer! Wife. What, no answer! Young Geraldine. Yes, thou hast spoke to me in showers; I will Reply in thunder: thou adulteress, That hast more poison in thee than the serpent Who was the first that did corrupt thy sex, The devil! Wife. To whom speaks the man? Young Geraldine. To thee, Falsest of all that ever man termed fair. Hath impudence so steeled thy smooth soft skin, It cannot blush? Or sin so obdured thy heart, It doth not quake and tremble? Search thy conscience; There thou shalt find a thousand clamorous tongues To speak as loud as mine doth. Wife. Save from yours, I hear no noise at all. Young Geraldine. I’ll play the doctor To open thy deaf ears. Monday the ninth Of the last month--canst thou remember that, That night more black in thy abhorrèd sin Than in the gloomy darkness?--that the time. Wife. Monday! Young Geraldine. Wouldst thou the place know?--thy polluted chamber, So often witness of my sinless vows. Wouldst thou the person?--one not worthy name, Yet, to torment thy guilty soul the more, I’ll tell him thee--that monster Delavil. Wouldst thou your bawd know?--midnight, that the hour. The very words thou spake?--“Now what would Geraldine Say, if he saw us here?”--to which was answered, “Tush, he’s a coxcomb, fit to be so fooled!” No blush! What, no faint fever on thee yet! How hath thy black sins changed thee! Thou Medusa! Those hairs that late appeared like golden wires Now crawl with snakes and adders. Thou art ugly.