Alex. Who's this? Pox on't! what makes that bawd yonder? [Unmasks her.
Con. I am very much deceived if I did not send this gentlewoman very drunk t'other night to the Compter.
Tim. I tell thee, prattling constable, 'tis a lie: Lindabrides a drunkard!
Alex. Harkee, brother, where lies her living?
Tim. Where? why, in Greece.
Alex. In grease.
Sim. She looks as if she had sold kitchen-stuff.
Alex. This is a common whore, and you a cheated coxcomb. Come hither, you rotten hospital, hung round with greasy satin; do not you know this vermin?
Mis. Coote. I winked at you, Sue, and you could have seen me: there's one Jarvis, a rope on him, h' has juggled me into the suds too.
Con. Now I know her name too: do not you pass under the name of Sue Shortheels, minion?