Mir. More saucy.
Ros. Still troubled with these vanities? Heaven bless us;
What are we born to? would ye speak with any of my people?
Go in, Sir, I am busie.
Bel. This is not she sure:
Is this two Children at a Birth? I'le be hang'd then:
Mine was a merry Gentlewoman, talkt daintily,
Talkt of those matters that befitted women;
This is a parcel-pray'r-book; I'm serv'd sweetly;
And now I am to look too; I was prepar'd for th' other way.
Ros. Do you know that man?
Oria. Sure I have seen him, Lady.
Ros. Methinks 'tis pity such a lusty fellow
Should wander up and down and want employment.
Bel. She takes me for a Rogue: you may do well, Madam,
To stay this wanderer, and set him a work, forsooth,
He can do something that may please your Ladiship.
I have heard of Women that desire good breedings,
Two at a birth, or so.
Ros. The fellow's impudent.
Oria. Sure he is crazed.
Ros. I have heard of men too, that have had good manners;
Sure this is want of grace; indeed 'tis great pity
The young man has been bred so ill; but this lewd Age
Is full of such examples.