Eu.  What, can you not abide my maides, unkle?

Mom.  I never cood abide a maide in my life Neece, but either I draw away the maide, or the maidenhead with a wet finger[16].

Eug.  You love to make your selfe worse then you are still.

Mom.  I know few mend in this World, Madam.  For the worse the better thought on, the better the worse spoken on ever amongst women.

Eu.  I wonder where you have binne all this while with your sentences.

Mom.  Faith where I must be againe presently.  I cannot stay long with you my deere Neece.

Eu.  By my faith but you shall, my Lord.  Cods pittie what will become of you shortly, that you drive maids afore you, and offer to leave widowes behind you, as mankindelie as if you had taken a surfet of our Sex lately, and our very sight turnd your stomacke?

Mom.  Cods my life, she abuses her best unkle; never trust me if it were not a good revenge to helpe her to the losse of her widow-head.

Eu.  That were a revenge, and a halfe, indeed.

Mom.  Nay twere but a whole revenge Neece, but such a revenge as would more then observe the true rule of a revenger.

Eu.  I know your rule before you utter it, Vlciscere inimico [sic] sed sine tuo incommodo.

Mom.  O rare Neece, you may see, what tis to be a scholler now; learning in a woman is like waight in gold, or luster in Diamants, which in no other Stone is so rich or refulgent.

Eug.  But say deere Vnckle how could you finde in your heart to stay so long from me?

Mom.  Why, alas Neece, y’are so smeard with this willfull widdows three-yeeres blacke weede, that I never come to you, but I dreame of Coarses, and Sepulchres, and Epitaphs, all the night after, and therefore adew deere Neece.

Eug.  Beshrew my heart my Lord, if you goe theis three houres.

Mom.  Three houres? nay Neece, if I daunce attendance three hours (alone in her Chamber) with any Lady so neere alide to me, I am very idle yfaith—­Mary with such an other I would daunce, one, two, three, foure, and five, tho it cost me ten shillings.  And now I am in, have at it! my head must devise something, while my feet are pidling thus, that may bring her to some fit consideration of my friend, who indeed is onely a great scholler, and all his honours, and riches lie in his minde.

Eu.  Come, come, pray tell me uncle, how does my cosen Momford?

Mom.  Why, well, very well Neece, and so is my friend Clarence well too, and then is there a worthy gentleman well as any is in England I can tell ye. [He daunceth speaking.

Eug.  But when did you see my Cosen?

Mom.  And tis pitty but he should do well, and he shall be well too, if all my wealth will make him well.