Host.  Tush, tush, these are toies; ile none of these Flipflaps, ile have no soping, no puffs, nor no Cobwebs, no busks, nor bumbarrels;[243] thou shalt weare thine own haire & fine cloath of Sheep-skins, thy colour shall be Dowlas as white as a Lillie, ile kisse these chop-cheries; thou shalt goe Gossip at Shrovetide; look about to my Guests then. [Exit.

Hostis.  I, twas my hard fortune to be an Hostesse; time was I might have done other wise.

    Enter Cittizens Wife.

City W.  Why how now, woman, a’th olde disease still? will it never be better? cannot a Woman finde one kinde man amongst twentie?  Ah the daies I have seen, when a Womans will was a lawe:  If I had a mind to such a thing, or such a thing, I could have had it, but twa’s never better since men were Purse-bearers.

Hosty.  Mine is een the unnaturallist man to his Wife.

Citie wi.  Truely, and commonly are all such fat men:  ile tell thee, Gossip, I have buried sixe, I, sixe husbands, but if I should live to have as many more, as I know not what may happen, but sure Ide never have such a fatte man:  they be the most unweldey men; that woman[244] shall not want a sore stomack, that’s troubled with them I warrant her.

Hosty.  And hee maintaines me heare like I knowe not what.

City wi.  I, and what say, they are their wives head; well if he be the head, shee’s the body, and the body is to beare the head, and the body is to beare the pursse.

Hostis.  They cannot misse us, yet they regard us not.

Citty wife.  Misse us! no faith, but would all women were of my minde, they call us weaker vessels, they should finde vessels of us, but no weake vessels, I warrant them.

Enter[245] Prentice.

Pren.  Mistris, my Maister cals for ye.

Hostis.  Goe, ile come anon, hees not so hastie to give me what I want, I warrant ye.

[Exit[245] Prentice.

City w.  No, would he were; little thinkes the husband what goes through the wives hand, washing, wringing, and rubbing, up early, down late, & a thousand things they looke not too.

Hostis.  And yet they must have the government of all.

City w.  And great reason they have for it, but a wise man will put in a Woman’s hand:  what sheele save that hee spends.

Hostis.  You have a pretty Ruffe, how deepe is it?

City w.  Nay, this is but shallowe, marrie I have a Ruffe is a quarter deepe, measured by the yard.

Hostis.  Indeede, by the yard.

City w.  By the standard:  you have a pretty set too, how big is the steele you set it with?

Hostis.  As bigge as a reasonable sufficient—­

    Enter Prentice.

Pren.  Mistris, my Maister would desire you to come in.