The Churl | ||
SCENE IV.
Phro.Give me my sandals—Lead me in this minute.
The wind has made my head ache desperately.
239
What's to become of me? For these two maids
I gave you, make my heart ache desperately.
[Phron. is led in.
What are you gone! A ha! have I bestow'd
My presents thus? I'm finely fool'd, indeed—
What! suffer this? How little would persuade me
Instant to turn this whole house topsy-turvy?
Is any thing so greedy as these women?
Having a boy, she plucks her spirit up—
This is as if she said, I neither ask,
Nor yet forbid you to come in—But I
Will not—I won't go in—In a few days
I'll make her say I am a man of blood.
Follow me this way— [to his attendants.]
I'll have no more prating.
[Exit.
The Churl | ||