Mir. Yes, I long to have thee here.
Ping. I doubt I shan't be with thee, though,
This two hours.
Mir. Then my heart will break.
Ping. I'm sure mine will before I get to thee.
O woman, O woman, O woman!
They talk of woman in travail, I'm
Sure I know a man in travail at
This time, in more pain by half. [She rises and laughs at him.
Mir. Why, my most extreme fat ass, dost
Thou not find that I have fool'd thee
All this while?
Ping. Why, hast thou?
Mir. Yes, indeed have I.
Ping. O thou woman! may'st thou grow
Fat, that thy breast and belly may
Meet together, so that all the fat
Hostesses in Christendom may appear
But eels to thee.
Mir. Farewell, my lowly love.
Ping. Why, wilt thou not help me up, before
You go?