Good friends, Winwife and Quarlous, have found themselves to be
Grace: Gentlemen, this is no way that you take; you do but breed one another trouble and offence, and give me no contentment at all. I am not she that affects to be quarrell’d for, or have my name or fortune made the question of men’s swords.
Quar: ’Sblood, we love you.
Grace: If you both love me, as you pretend, your own reason will tell you, but one can enjoy me: and to that point there leads a directer line, than by my infamy, which must follow, if you fight. ’Tis true, I have profest it to you ingenuously, that rather than to be yoked with this bridegroom is appointed me, I would take up any husband almost upon any trust; though subtlety would say to me, I know, he is a fool, and has an estate, and I might govern him, and enjoy a friend beside: but these are not my aims; I must have a
More about this monologue