Bart. To what end sirrah?
Pen. Came to buy Chains and Rings, is to be married,
An Asse, a Coxcomb, h'as nothing in's house Sir;
I warrant you think he came to see my Mistriss?
Bart. I doubt it shrewdly.
Pen. Away, away 'tis foolish;
He has not the face to look upon a Gentlewoman,
A poor skim'd thing, his Mothers maids are fain, Sir
To teach him how to kiss, and against he is married,
To shew him on which side the stirrop stands.
Bart. That's a fine youth.
Pen. Thou wouldst hang thy self, that thou hadst half his power,
Thou empty Potgun.
Bart. Am I come fit Penurio?
Pen. As fit as a fiddle,
My Master's now abroad about his business.
Bart. When thou cam'st to me home to day, I half suspected
My wife was jealous, that she whispered to thee.
Pen. You deserve well the whilst, there's no such matter,
She talk'd about some toyes my Master must bring to her,
You must not know of.