Lod. Bail thee? art in for debt?
Pen. No; God is my judge, sir, I am in for no debts; I paid my tailor for this gown, the last five shillings a-week that was behind, yesterday.
Duke. What is your name, I pray?
Pen. Penelope Whorehound, I come of the Whorehounds. How does Lieutenant Bots?
Lod., Ast., &c. Aha, Bots!
Bots. A very honest woman, as I’m a soldier—a pox Bots ye.
Pen. I was never in this pickle before; and yet if I go amongst citizens’ wives, they jeer at me; if I go among the loose-bodied gowns,[320] they cry a pox on me, because I go civilly attired, and swear their trade was a good trade, till such as I am took it out of their hands. Good Lieutenant Bots, speak to these captains to bail me.
1st Mast. Begging for bail still? you are a trim gossip;
Go give her the blue gown, set her to her chare.[321]
Work huswife, for your bread, away.
Pen. Out, you dog!—a pox on you all!—women are born to curse thee—but I shall live to see twenty such flat-caps shaking dice for a penny-worth of pippins—out, you blue-eyed rogue. [Exit.
Lod., Ast., &c. Ha, ha, ha.