Besides those strange gestures of staring, frowning, grinning, rolling of eyes, menacing, ghastly looks, broken pace, interrupt, precipitate, half-turns.  He will sometimes sigh, weep, sob for anger. Nempe suos imbres etiam ista tonitrua fundunt,[6127]—­swear and belie, slander any man, curse, threaten, brawl, scold, fight; and sometimes again flatter and speak fair, ask forgiveness, kiss and coll, condemn his rashness and folly, vow, protest, and swear he will never do so again; and then eftsoons, impatient as he is, rave, roar, and lay about him like a madman, thump her sides, drag her about perchance, drive her out of doors, send her home, he will be divorced forthwith, she is a whore, &c., and by-and-by with all submission compliment, entreat her fair, and bring her in again, he loves her dearly, she is his sweet, most kind and loving wife, he will not change, nor leave her for a kingdom; so he continues off and on, as the toy takes him, the object moves him, but most part brawling, fretting, unquiet he is, accusing and suspecting not strangers only, but brothers and sisters, father and mother, nearest and dearest friends.  He thinks with those Italians,

       “Chi non tocca parentado,
        Tocca mai e rado.”

And through fear conceives unto himself things almost incredible and impossible to be effected.  As a heron when she fishes, still prying on all sides; or as a cat doth a mouse, his eye is never off hers; he gloats on him, on her, accurately observing on whom she looks, who looks at her, what she saith, doth, at dinner, at supper, sitting, walking, at home, abroad, he is the same, still inquiring, maundering, gazing, listening, affrighted with every small object; why did she smile, why did she pity him, commend him? why did she drink twice to such a man? why did she offer to kiss, to dance? &c., a whore, a whore, an arrant whore.  All this he confesseth in the poet,

[6128] “Omnia me terrent, timidus sum, ignosce timori. 
        Et miser in tunica suspicor esse virum. 
        Me laedit si multa tibi dabit oscula mater,
        Me soror, et cum qua dormit amica simul.”

       “Each thing affrights me, I do fear,
        Ah pardon me my fear,
        I doubt a man is hid within
        The clothes that thou dost wear.”

Is it not a man in woman’s apparel? is not somebody in that great chest, or behind the door, or hangings, or in some of those barrels? may not a man steal in at the window with a ladder of ropes, or come down the chimney, have a false key, or get in when he is asleep?  If a mouse do but stir, or the wind blow, a casement clatter, that’s the villain, there he is:  by his goodwill no man shall see her, salute her, speak with her, she shall not go forth of his sight, so much as to do her needs. [6129]_Non ita bovem argus_, &c.  Argus did not so keep his cow, that watchful dragon the golden fleece, or Cerberus the coming in of hell, as he keeps his wife.  If