Clown. Nay, sir, you do wrong to give a woman so many lies: she had rather have had twice so many standings than one lie.
Mrs Fos. I'll lie with him, I'll warrant him.
Steph. You'll be a whore, then.
Clown. Little less, I promise you, if you lie with him.
Steph. If you complain upon mine honest coz,
And that his father be offended with him,
The next time I meet thee, though it be i' the street,
I'll dance i' th' dirt upon thy velvet cap;
Nay, worse, I'll stain thy ruff; nay, worse than that,
I'll do thus. [Holds a wisp.[74]
Mrs Fos. O my heart; gossip, do you see this? Was ever
Woman thus abus'd?
Wid. Methinks 'tis good sport, i' faith.
Mrs Fos. Ay, I am well recompens'd to complain to you?
Had you such a kindred——
Wid. I would rejoice in't, gossip.
Mrs Fos. Do so; choose here then. O my heart! but I'll do your errand! O that my nails were not pared! but I'll do your errand! Will you go, gossip?