'S WIFE. (_Continues her Monologue_.) I think it must be a
charming thing to have such a fine-looking man for a sweetheart; if he
should urge his suit very much the temptation would be great. Alas! why
have I not a handsome man like this for my husband instead of my booby,
my clod-hopper...?
SGAN. (_Snatching the portrait from her_). What, hussey! have I
caught you in the very act, slandering your honourable and darling
husband? According to you, most worthy spouse, and everything well
considered, the husband is not as good as the wife? In Beelzebub's name
(and may he fly away with you), what better match could you wish for?
Is there any fault to be found with me? It seems that this shape, this
air, which everybody admires; this face, so fit to inspire love, for
which a thousand fair ones sigh both night and day; in a word, my own
delightful self, by no manner of means pleases you. Moreover, to satisfy
your ravenous appetite you add to the husband the relish of a gallant.
SGAN.'S WIFE. I see plainly the drift of your jocular remarks, though
you do not clearly express yourself.
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