Wid. No, I'll stay awhile, and tell 'em out with patience.
Mrs Fos. I cannot hold a joint still! Dost wisp me, thou tatterdemalion? I'll do your errands! if I have a husband. O that I could spit wild-fire! My heart! O my heart! if it does not go pantle, pantle, pantle in my belly, I am no honest woman: but I'll do your errands!
[Exit Mistress Foster.
Rob. Kind gentlewoman, you have some patience.
Wid. I have too much, sir.
Rob. You may do a good office, and make yourself a peaceful moderator betwixt me and my angry father, whom his wife hath moved to spleen against me.
Wid. Sir, I do not disallow the kindness
Your consanguinity renders; I would not teach
You otherwise: I'd speak with your uncle, sir,
If you'll give me leave.
Clown. [To Robert.] You may talk with me, sir, in the meantime. [Exit Robert and Clown.
Steph. With me would you talk, gentlewoman?