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A monologue from the play by Thomas Middleton
Have you played over all your old lessons o’the virginals? (…) Yes, you are a dull maid alate, methinks you had need have somewhat to quicken your green sickness; do you weep?
A husband. Had not such a piece of flesh been ordained, what had us wives been good for? To make salads, or else cried up and down for samphire.
To see the difference of these seasons! When I was of your youth, I was lightsome, and quick, two years before I was married.
You fit for a knight’s bed—drowsy browed, dull eyed, drossy sprited—I hold my life you have forgot your dancing: when was the dancer with you? (. . .) Last week?
When I was of your bord, he missed me not a night, I was kept at it; I took delight to learn, and he to teach me, pretty brown gentleman, he took pleasure in my company;
but you are dull, nothing comes nimbly from you, you dance like a plumber’s daughter, and deserve two thousand pounds in lead to your marriage, and not in goldsmith’s ware.