A monologue from the play by Thomas Middleton
THOMASINE
Were these fit words, think you, to be sent to any citizen’s wife–to enjoy the daughter, and love the mother too for a need?
I would foully scorn that man that should love me only for a need, I tell you. And here the knave writes again,
that by the marriage of my daughter, ‘a has the better means and opportunity to myself: he lies in his throat, like a villain;
he has no opportunity of me for all that; ’tis for his betters to have opportunity of me, and that he shall well know.
A base, proud knave! ‘a has forgot how he came up and brought two of his countrymen to give their words to my husband for a suit of kersey;
‘a has forgot all this: and how does he appear to me when his white satin suit’s on, but like a maggot crept out of a nutshell–
a fair body and a foul neck: those parts that are covered of him look indifferent well, because we cannot see ’em; else,
for all his cleansing, pruning, and paring, he’s not worthy a broker’s daughter!
