Nay, if that had been the worst I could have borne: but he had a
fling at your ladyship too, and then I could not hold; but, i'faith
I gave him his own.
LADY. Me? What did the filthy fellow say?
FOIB. O madam, 'tis a shame to say what he said, with his taunts
and his fleers, tossing up his nose. Humh, says he, what, you are
a-hatching some plot, says he, you are so early abroad, or catering,
says he, ferreting for some disbanded officer, I warrant. Half pay
is but thin subsistence, says he. Well, what pension does your lady
propose? Let me see, says he, what, she must come down pretty deep
now, she's superannuated, says he, and -
LADY. Ods my life, I'll have him--I'll have him murdered. I'll
have him poisoned. Where does he eat? I'll marry a drawer to have
him poisoned in his wine. I'll send for Robin from Locket's--
immediately.
FOIB. Poison him? Poisoning's too good for him. Starve him,
madam, starve him; marry Sir Rowland, and get him disinherited. Oh,
you would bless yourself to hear what he said.
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