Hodge. Mistress, will you drink a pipe of tobacco?
Marg. Oh, fie upon it, Roger, perdy! These filthy tobacco-pipes are the most idle slavering baubles that ever I felt. Out upon it! God bless us, men look not like men that use them.
Enter Ralph, lame.
Roger. What, fellow Ralph? Mistress, look here, Jane’s husband! Why, how now, lame? Hans, make much of him, he’s a brother of our trade, a good workman, and a tall soldier.
Hans. You be welcome, broder.
Marg. Perdy, I knew him not. How dost thou, good Ralph? I am glad to see thee well.
Ralph. I would to God you saw me, dame, as well
As when I went from London into France.
Marg. Trust me, I am sorry, Ralph, to see thee impotent. Lord, how the wars have made him sunburnt! The left leg is not well; ’twas a fair gift of God the infirmity took not hold a little higher, considering thou camest from France; but let that pass.
Ralph. I am glad to see you well, and I rejoice
To hear that God hath blest my master so
Since my departure.