With which she met me in the hours of leisure.
Oft hath she vow'd, that she despis'd the profit,
How great soe'er, that sunder'd us at times.
But all the halcyon days I once enjoy'd,
Do but conspire to aggravate the misery,
Which now quite weighs me down.

WILSON. Nor is it strange.
Your house is grown a nuisance to its neighbours,
Where twice in every week, if not more frequent,
A motley crowd at midnight hour assembles;
Whose ruffian-like attendants in the street,
Alarm the peaceful, and disturb their quiet.

ANDREWS. I know, I feel it all.

WILSON. Its inside too
Is not less riotous; where this same medly
Waste the whole night, destroying health and fortune,
Of ev'ry social duty quite regardless.

ANDREWS. They've been unseen by me. My health's weak state
Will not admit my sleeping in the city;
Whence also, I am often whole days absent;
As my neglected finances disclose.
Have you at any time beheld these scenes?

WILSON. Once, on the invitation of your spouse.

ANDREWS. Relate them, if not irksome.