Michael Perez: 

      P[r]ithee leave prating.

Estifania: 

      And here’s a Chain of Whitings eyes for pearls,
      A Muscle-monger would have made a better.

Michael Perez: 

      Nay, prithee wife, my Cloaths, my Cloaths.

Estifania: 

      I’ll tell ye,
      Your Cloaths are parallels to these, all counterfeit. 
      Put these and them on, you are a Man of Copper,
      A kind of Candlestick; these you thought, my Husband,
      To have cozen’d me withall, but I am quit with you.

Michael Perez: 

      Is there no house then, nor no grounds about it? 
      No plate nor hangings?

Estifania: 

      There are none, sweet Husband,
      Shadow for shadow is as equal justice. 
      Can you rail now? pray put up your fury, Sir,
      And speak great words, you are a Souldier, thunder.

Michael Perez: 

      I will speak little, I have plaid the Fool,
      And so I am rewarded.

Estifania: 

      You have spoke well, Sir,
      And now I see you are so conformable
      I’ll heighten you again, go to your house,
      They are packing to be gone, you must sup there,
      I’ll meet ye, and bring Cloaths, and clean Shirts after,
      And all things shall be well, I’ll colt you once more,
      And teach you to bring Copper.

Michael Perez: 

      Tell me one thing,
      I do beseech thee tell me, tell me truth, Wife,
      However I forgive thee, art thou honest? 
      The Beldam swore.

Estifania: 

      I bid her tell you so, Sir,
      It was my plot, alas my credulous Husband,
      The Lady told you too.
212]

Michael Perez: 

      Most strange things of thee.

Estifania: 

      Still ’twas my way, and all to try your sufferance,
      And she denied the House.

Michael Perez: 

      She knew me not,
      No, nor no title that I had.

Estifania: 

      ’Twas well carried;
      No more, I am right and straight.

Michael Perez: 

      I would believe thee,
      But Heaven knows how my heart is, will ye follow me?

Estifania: 

      I’ll be there straight.

Michael Perez: 

      I am fooled, yet dare not find it.
          
                                                     [Exit Perez.

Estifania: 

      Go silly Fool, thou mayst be a good Souldier
      In open field, but for our private service
      Thou art an Ass, I’ll make thee so, or miss else.

      [Enter Cacafogo.]

      Here comes another Trout that I must tickle,
      And tickle daintily, I have lost my end else. 
      May I crave your leave, Sir?