Geo. Oh yes, of all countries some; but especially mad Greeks, they swarm. Troth mistress, the world is altered with you; you had not wont to stand thus with a paper humbly complaining: but you’re well enough served: provender pricked you, as it does many of our city wives besides.
Vio. Dost think, George, we shall get him forth?
Geo. Truly, mistress, I cannot tell; I think you’ll hardly get him forth. Why, ’tis strange! ’Sfoot, I have known many women that have had mad rascals to their husbands, whom they would belabour by all means possible to keep ’em in their right wits, but of a woman to long to turn a tame man into a madman, why the devil himself was never used so by his dam.
Vio. How does he talk, George! ha! good George, tell me.
Geo. Why you’re best go see.
Vio. Alas, I am afraid!
Geo. Afraid! you had more need be ashamed, he may rather be afraid of you.
Vio. But, George, he’s not stark mad, is he? he does not rave, he is not horn-mad, George, is he?
Geo. Nay I know not that, but he talks like a justice of peace, of a thousand matters, and to no purpose.