Whit. Mend then, and do every ting like a lady hereafter; never know ty husband from another man.
Knock. Nor any one man from another, but in the dark.
Whit. Ay, and then it ish no disgrash to know any man.
Urs. [within.] Help, help here!
Knock. How now? what vapour’s there?
Re-enter URSULA.
Urs. O, you are a sweet ranger, and look well to your walks! Yonder is your punk of Turnbull, ramping Alice, has fallen upon the poor gentlewoman within, and pull’d her hood over her ears, and her hair through it.
Enter ALICE, beating and driving in Mrs. OVERDO.
Mrs. Over. Help, help, in the king’s name!
Alice. A mischief on you, they are such as you are that undo us and take our trade from us, with your tuft-taffata haunches.