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