Your friend-- _Kath._ My truest friend, And savior of my honor! _Mrs.F._ This sounds better; You still shall find me such.
_Kath._ That you have graced Our poor house with your presence hitherto, Has been my greatest comfort, the sole solace Of my forlorn and hardly guess'd estate.
You have been pleased To accept some trivial hospitalities, In part of payment of a long arrear I owe to you, no less than for my life.
_Mrs.F._ You speak my services too large.
_Kath._ Nay, less; For what an abject thing were life to me Without your silence on my dreadful secret! And I would wish the league we have renew'd Might be perpetual-- _Mrs.F._ Have a care, fine madam! [_Aside._ _Kath._ That one house still might hold us.

But my husband Has shown himself of late-- _Mrs.F._ How, Mistress Selby?
_Kath._ Not, not impatient.

You misconstrue him.
He honors, and he loves, nay, he must love The friend of his wife's youth.

But there are moods, In which-- _Mrs.F._ I understand you;--in which husbands, And wives that love, may wish to be alone, To nurse the tender fits of new-born dalliance, After a five years' wedlock.
_Kath._ Was that well, Or charitably put?
do these pale cheeks Proclaim a wanton blood?
This wasting form Seem a fit theatre for Levity To play his love-tricks on; and act such follies, As even in Affection's first bland Moon Have less of grace than pardon in best wedlocks?
I was about to say, that there are times, When the most frank and sociable man May surfeit on most loved society, Preferring loneness rather-- _Mrs.F._ To my company-- _Kath._ Ay, yours, or mine, or any one's.

Nay, take Not this unto yourself.