SELBY
      But to divert the subject:  Kate too fond,
      I would not wrest your meanings; else that word
      Accompanied, and full-accompanied too,
      Might raise a doubt in some men, that their wives
      Haply did think their company too long;
      And over-company, we know by proof,
      Is worse than no attendance.

      KATHERINE
      I must guess,
      You speak this of the Widow—­

      SELBY
      ’Twas a bolt
      At random shot; but if it hit, believe me,
      I am most sorry to have wounded you
      Through a friend’s side.  I know not how we have swerved
      From our first talk.  I was to caution you
      Against this fault of a too grateful nature: 
      Which, for some girlish obligations past,
      In that relenting season of the heart,
      When slightest favours pass for benefits
      Of endless binding, would entail upon you
      An iron slavery of obsequious duty
      To the proud will of an imperious woman.

      KATHERINE
      The favours are not slight to her I owe.

SELBY Slight or not slight, the tribute she exacts Cancels all dues—­[A voice within.] even now I hear her call you In such a tone, as lordliest mistresses Expect a slave’s attendance.  Prithee, Kate, Let her expect a brace of minutes or so.  Say, you are busy.  Use her by degrees To some less hard exactions.

      KATHERINE
      I conjure you,
      Detain me not.  I will return—­

SELBY Sweet wife Use thy own pleasure—­[Exit Katherine.] but it troubles me.  A visit of three days, as was pretended, Spun to ten tedious weeks, and no hint given When she will go!  I would this buxom Widow Were a thought handsomer!  I’d fairly try My Katherine’s constancy; make desperate love In seeming earnest; and raise up such broils, That she, not I, should be the first to warn The insidious guest depart.

      Re-enter Katherine.

      So soon return’d! 
      What was our Widow’s will?

      KATHERINE
      A trifle, Sir.

      SELBY
      Some toilet service-to adjust her head,
      Or help to stick a pin in the right place—­

      KATHERINE
      Indeed ’twas none of these.

SELBY or new vamp up The tarnish’d cloak she came in.  I have seen her Demand such service from thee, as her maid, Twice told to do it, would blush angry-red, And pack her few clothes up.  Poor fool! fond slave!  And yet my dearest Kate!—­This day at least (It is our wedding-day) we spend in freedom, And will forget our Widow.—­Philip, our coach—­ Why weeps my wife?  You know, I promised you An airing o’er the pleasant Hampshire downs To the blest cottage on the green hill side, Where first I told my love.  I wonder much, If the crimson parlour hath exchanged its hue For colours not so welcome.