Lov. I do i'faith, Will; your fair women have no substance in 'em, they shrink in the wetting.
Fran. Well, you may be undone if you will, husband: I hear there are two or three actions already out against him: You may be the last, if you think good.
Bib. Tis true she tells me; I love your wit well, sir; but I must cut my coat according to my cloth.
Fran. Sir, we'll come by our own as we can; if you put us oft' from week to week thus.
Lov. Nay, but good landlady—
Fran. Will good landlady set on the pot, as they say; or make the jack go? then I'll hear you.
Bib. Now she's too much on t'other hand; hold your prating, Frances; or I'll put you out of your Pater Nosters, with a sorrow to you.
Fran. I did but lay the law open to him, as they say, whereby to get our money in: But if you knew how he had used me, husband!
Bib. Has he used you, Frances? put so much more into his bill for lodging.
Lov. Honest Will, and so he died[A]; I thank thee, little Bibber, being sober, and, when I am drunk, I will kiss thee for't.