Mrs. Over. I thank you, honest friends, in the behalf o’ the crown, and the peace, and in master Overdo’s name, for suppressing enormities.
Whit. Stay, Bristle, here ish anoder brash of drunkards, but very quiet, special drunkards, will pay de five shillings very well. [Points to Northern and Puppy, drunk, and asleep, on the bench.] Take ’em to de, in de graish o’ God: one of hem do’s change cloth for ale in the Fair, here; te toder ish a strong man, a mighty man, my lord mayor’s man, and a wrastler. He has wrashled so long with the bottle here, that the man with the beard hash almosht streek up hish heelsh.
Bri. ’Slid, the clerk o’ the market has been to cry him all the Fair over here, for my lord’s service.
Whit. Tere he ish, pre de taik him hensh, and make ty best on him. [Exeunt Bristle and the rest of the Watch with Northern and Puppy.]—How now, woman o’ shilk, vat ailsh ty shweet faish? art tou melancholy?
Mrs. Over. A little distempered with these enormities. Shall I entreat a courtesy of you, captain?
Whit. Entreat a hundred, velvet voman, I vill do it, shpeak out.
Mrs. Over. I cannot with modesty speak it out, but—
[Whispers him.
Whit. I vill do it, and more and more, for de. What Ursla, an’t be bitch, an’t be bawd, an’t be!
Enter URSULA.