OLD WOMAN.
Dost thou call me whore? I’ll cap thee for my pot.
MOUSE.
Cap me, an thou dar’st; search me, whether I have it or no.
[She searcheth him, and he drinketh over her head, and casts down the pot; she stumbleth at it, then they fall together by the ears; she takes her pot and goes out.]
Enter Segasto.
SEGASTO.
How now, sirrah, what’s the matter?
MOUSE.
Oh, flies, master, flies.
SEGASTO.
Flies? Where are they?
MOUSE.
Oh here, master, all about your face.
SEGASTO.
Why, thou liest; I think thou art mad.
MOUSE.
Why, master, I have kill’d a dungcartful at the least.