Charles Heron Wall - The Imaginary Invalid (Act 1 Scene 8) lyrics

SCENE VIII.——ARGAN, BÉLINE. BEL. Now, now; what is it again? ARG. (throwing himself in his chair). Ah! I can hold out no longer. BEL. But why do you fly into such a pa**ion? she thought she was doing right. ARG. You don't know, darling, the wickedness of that villainous baggage. She has altogether upset me, and I shall want more than eight different mixtures and twelve injections to remedy the evil. BEL. Come, come, my dearie, compose yourself a little. ARG. Lovey, you are my only consolation. BEL. Poor little pet! ARG. To repay you for all the love you have for me, my darling, I will, as I told you, make my will. BEL. Ah, my soul! do not let us speak of that, I beseech you. I cannot bear to think of it, and the very word "will" makes me die of grief. ARG. I had asked you to speak to our notary about it. BEL. There he is, close at hand; I have brought him with me. ARG. Make him come in then, my life! BEL. Alas! my darling, when a woman loves her husband so much, she finds it almost impossible to think of these things.