Edg. Night. ’Ware the pan, the pan, the pan! she comes with the pan, gentlemen! [Ursula falls with the pan.]—God bless the woman.
Urs. Oh!
[Exeunt Quarlous and Winwife.
Trash. [runs in.] What’s the matter?
Over. Goodly woman!
Moon. Mistress!
Urs. Curse of hell! that ever I saw these fiends! oh! I have scalded my leg, my leg, my leg, my leg! I have lost a limb in the service! run for some cream and sallad-oil, quickly. Are you under-peering, you baboon? rip off my hose, an you be men, men, men.
Moon. Run you for some cream, good mother Joan. I’ll look to your basket.
[Exit Trash.