Neither my husband nor the slave return’d,
That in such haste I sent to seek his master?
Sure, Luciana, it is two a’ clock.
Perhaps some merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner.
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret;
A man is master of his liberty:
Time is their master, and when they see time,
they’ll go or come; if so, be patient, sister.
Why should their liberty than ours be more?
Because their business still lies out a’ door.
Look when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
O, know he is the bridle of your will.
There’s none but asses will be bridled so.
Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe:
There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye
But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky.
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls
Are their males’ subjects and at their controls:
Man, more divine, the master of all these,
Lord of the wide world and wild wat’ry seas,
Indu’d with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.
This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
Ere I learn love, I’ll practice to obey.
How if your husband start some other where?
Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Patience unmov’d! no marvel though she pause—
They can be meek that have no other cause:
A wretched soul, bruis’d with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burd’ned with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain:
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience would relieve me;
But if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left.
Well, I will marry one day, but to try.
Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.