Isa. Look to your wife, sir, or, in time, she may undo your trade; for she'll get all your men-customers to herself.
Bib. An' I should be hanged, I can forbear no longer. [He plucks out his measure, and runs to ISABELLA, to take measure of her.
Isa. How now! what means Prince Pericles by this?
Bib. [On his knees.] I must beg your ladyship e'en to have the honour to trust you but for your gown, for the sake of that last jest, flowered sattin, wrought tabby, silver upon any grounds; I shall run mad if I may not trust your ladyship.
Franc. I think you are mad already, as they say, William: You shall not trust her—
[Plucks him back.
Bib. Let me alone, Frances: I am a lion when I am angered.
Isa. Pray do not pull your lion by the tail so, mistress—In these clothes, that he now takes measure of me for, will I marry Sir Timorous; mark that, and tremble, Failer.
Fail. Never threaten me, madam; you're a person I despise.
Isa. I vow to gad, I'll be even with you, sir.