Tob. A little warning
That we may know [when] to begin our healths Madam;
The Justice is a kind of old Jade, Madam,
That will go merriest with a Bell.
La. All the house drunk.
Tob. This is a [day] of Jubile.
La. Are the best hangings up? and the Plate set out?
Who makes the Posset, Nurse?
Nur. The dayrie mayd,
And she'll put that in, will make him caper:
Well Madam, well, you might ha'chose another,
A handsomer for your years.
La. Peace, he is rich Nurse,
He is rich, and that's beauty.
Nur. I am sure he is rotten,
Would he had been hang'd when he first saw her. Termagant!
La. What an angry Quean is this, where,
Who looks to him?
Tob. He is very merry Madam,
M. Wildbrain, has him in hand, ith'bottom o'th'Sellar
He sighs and tipples.
Nur. Alass good Gentleman,
My heart's sore for thee.