2 Cit. W. Very good people, God help ’em.

1 Cit. W. Wilt thou go with me down this summer, when I am brought to bed?

2 Cit. W. Alas, ’tis no place for us.

1 Cit. W. Why, pr’ythee?

2 Cit. W. Why, you can have nothing there; there’s nobody cries brooms.

1 Cit. W. No?

2 Cit. W. No truly, nor milk.

1 Cit. W. Nor milk, how do they?

2 Cit. W. They are fain to milk themselves i’ the country.

1 Cit. W. Good lord! But the people there, I think, will be very dutiful to one of us.

2 Cit. W. Ay, God knows will they; and yet they do not greatly care for our husbands.

1 Cit. W. Do they not? alas! i’ good faith, I cannot blame them. For we do not greatly care for them ourselves. Philip, I pray, chuse us a place.

Phil. There’s the best, forsooth.

1 Cit. W. By your leave, good people, a little.

1 Man. What’s the matter?

Phil. I pray you, my friends, do not thrust my mistress so; she’s with child.

2 Man. Let her look to herself then; has she not had thrusting enough yet? If she stay shouldering here, she may hap to go home with a cake in her belly.

3 Man. How now, goodman Squitter-breech! why do you lean on me?

Phil. Because I will.

3 Man. Will you, Sir Sauce-box?

[Strikes him.

1 Cit. W. Look, if one ha’ not struck Philip.—Come hither,
Philip; why did he strike thee?

Phil. For leaning on him.

1 Cit. W. Why didst thou lean on him?

Phil. I did not think he would have struck me.

1 Cit. W. As God save me, la, thou art as wild as a buck; there’s no quarrel, but thou art at one end or other on’t.

3 Man. It’s at the first end then, for he’ll ne’er stay the last.

1 Cit. W. Well, stripling, I shall meet with you.