filthy poverty!

WIFE.
Good sir, by all our vows I do beseech you,
Show me the true cause of your discontent.

HUSBAND.
Money, money, money, and thou must supply me.

WIFE.
Alas, I am the lest cause of your discontent,
Yet what is mine, either in rings or Jewels,
Use to your own desire, but I beseech you,
As y'are a gentleman by many bloods,
Though I my self be out of your respect,
Think on the state of these three lovely boys
You have been father to.

HUSBAND.
Puh! Bastards, bastards, bastards; begot in tricks, begot
in tricks.

WIFE.
Heaven knows how those words wrong me, but I may
Endure these griefs among a thousand more.
Oh, call to mind your lands already mortgage,
Your self wound with debts, your hopeful brother
At the university in bonds for you,
Like to be ceasd upon; And--