And, in good sooth, I wish it lay in me
To remedy the least part of these wrongs
Your unkind husband daily proffers you.

MRS ART. You are deceived, he is not unkind:
Although he bear an outward face of hate,
His heart and soul are both assured mine.

ANS. Fie, Mistress Arthur! take a better spirit;
Be not so timorous to rehearse your wrongs:
I say, your husband haunts bad company,
Swaggerers, cheaters, wanton courtesans;
There he defiles his body, stains his soul,
Consumes his wealth, undoes himself and you
In danger of diseases, whose vile names
Are not for any honest mouths to speak,
Nor any chaste ears to receive and hear.
O, he will bring that face, admir'd for beauty,
To be more loathed than a lep'rous skin!
Divorce yourself, now whilst the clouds grow black;
Prepare yourself a shelter for the storm;
Abandon his most loathed fellowship:
You are young, mistress; will you lose your youth?

MRS ART. Tempt no more, devil! thy deformity
Hath chang'd itself into an angel's shape,
But yet I know thee by thy course of speech:
Thou gett'st an apple to betray poor Eve,
Whose outside bears a show of pleasant fruit;
But the vile branch, on which this apple grew,