Flor. Why truly Madam, I thinke, to lye with their husbands.
Bella. You are a foole: She lyes, Madam, women marry husbands,
To lye with other men. [5]
Flor. Faith eene such a woman wilt thou make. By this light, Madam, this wagtaile will spoyle you, if you take delight in her licence.
Beau. Tis true, Florimell: and thou wilt make me too good for a yong Lady. What an electuary found my father out for [10] his daughter, when hee compounded you two my women? for thou, Florimell, art eene a graine to heauy, simply for a wayting Gentlewoman.
Flor. And thou Bellapert, a graine too light.
Bella. Well, go thy wayes goodly wisdom, whom no body [15] regards. I wonder, whether be elder thou or thy hood: you thinke, because you serue my Laydes mother, are 32 yeeres old which is a peepe out, you know.
Flor. Well sayd, wherligig.
Bella. You are deceyu’d: I want a peg ith’ middle. [20] Out of these Prerogatiues! you thinke to be mother of the maydes heere, & mortifie em with prouerbs: goe, goe, gouern the sweet meates, and waigh the Suger, that the wenches steale none: say your prayers twice a day, and as I take it, you haue performd your function. [25]
Flor. I may bee euen with you.
Bell. Harke, the Court’s broke vp. Goe helpe my old Lord out of his Caroch, and scratch his head till dinner time.