Nay, I shan't be
quite the same Waitwell neither--for now I remember me, I'm married,
and can't be my own man again.
Ay, there's my grief; that's the sad change of life:
To lose my title, and yet keep my wife.
ACT III.--SCENE I.
A room in Lady Wishfort's house.
LADY WISHFORT at her toilet, PEG waiting.
LADY. Merciful! No news of Foible yet?
PEG. No, madam.
LADY. I have no more patience. If I have not fretted myself till I
am pale again, there's no veracity in me. Fetch me the red--the
red, do you hear, sweetheart? An errant ash colour, as I'm a
person. Look you how this wench stirs! Why dost thou not fetch me
a little red? Didst thou not hear me, Mopus?
PEG. The red ratafia, does your ladyship mean, or the cherry
brandy?
LADY. Ratafia, fool? No, fool. Not the ratafia, fool--grant me
patience!--I mean the Spanish paper, idiot; complexion, darling.
Paint, paint, paint, dost thou understand that, changeling, dangling
thy hands like bobbins before thee? Why dost thou not stir, puppet?
Thou wooden thing upon wires!
PEG.
Pages:
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78