Mrs. Over. Nay, good master Numps, do you shew discretion, though he be exorbitant, as master Overdo says, and it be but for conservation of the peace.
Waspe. Marry gip, goody She-justice, mistress Frenchhood! turd in your teeth, and turd in your Frenchhood’s teeth too, to do you service, do you see! Must you quote your Adam to me! you think you are madam Regent still, mistress Overdo, when I am in place; no such matter. I assure you, your reign is out, when I am in, dame.
Mrs. Over. I am content to be in abeyance, sir, and be governed by you; so should he too, if he did well; but ’twill be expected you should also govern your passions.
Waspe. Will it so, forsooth! good Lord, how sharp you are, with being at Bedlam yesterday! Whetstone has set an edge upon you, has he?
Mrs. Over. Nay, if you know not what belongs to your dignity, I do yet to mine.
Waspe. Very well then.
Cokes. Is this the license, Numps? for love’s sake let me see’t; I never saw a license.
Waspe. Did you not so? why, you shall not see’t then.
Cokes. An you love me, good Numps.
Waspe. Sir, I love you, and yet I do not love you in these fooleries: set your heart at rest, there’s nothing in it but hard words;—and what would you see it for?