Over. Ursula! where is she? O the sow of enormity, this! welcome, stand you there; you, songster, there.
Urs. An’t please your worship, I am in no fault: a gentleman stripped him in my booth, and borrowed his gown, and his hat; and he ran away with my goods here for it.
Over. [to Quarlous.] Then this is the true madman, and you are the enormity!
Quar. You are in the right: I am mad but from the gown outward.
Over. Stand you there.
Quar. Where you please, sir.
Mrs. Over. [waking] O, lend me a bason, I am sick, I am sick! where’s master Overdo? Bridget, call hither my Adam.
Over. How!
[He is shamed and silenced.
Whit. Dy very own wife, i’fait, worshipful Adam.