So loose affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fallen off
From his first place, that scarce no note remains,
To tell men's judgments where he lately stood;
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends, and not content
To stale himself in all societies,
He makes my house as common as a Mart,
A Theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour, and diseased riot,
And there, (as in a tavern, or a stews,)
He, and his wild associates, spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, and dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants: and indeed what not?

GIU. Faith, I know not what I should say to him: so God save me,
I am e'en at my wits' end, I have told him enough, one would think,
if that would serve: well, he knows what to trust to for me: let
him spend, and spend, and domineer till his heart ache: an he get
a penny more of me, I'll give him this ear.

THO. Nay, good brother, have patience.

GIU. 'Sblood, he mads me, I could eat my very flesh for anger: I
marle you will not tell him of it, how he disquiets your house.

THO. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade me,
But would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it,
(Though but with plain and easy circumstance,)