And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love,
As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
15
I prithee, go and get me some repast,
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
KATHERINE
The more I suffer, the more spiteful he becomes. Did he marry me
just to starve me? Beggars at my father's door are given
money as soon as they ask for it. And if they don't find
charity there, they find it someplace else. But I, who have never
known how to beg and never had to beg, am starved for food, dizzy
with lack of sleep, kept awake with curses and fed with brawling.
And what irks me more than all these things put together is that he
does it under the pretense of love—as though for me to
eat or sleep would bring on fatal illness or sudden death. Please,
go and get me something to eat. I don't care what so long
as it's nutritious.
