Marg. Yea, truly, Ralph, I thank my Maker; but let that pass.
Hodge. And, sirrah Ralph, what news, what news in France?
Ralph. Tell me, good Roger, first, what news in England? How does my Jane? When didst thou see my wife?
Where lives my poor heart? She’ll be poor indeed,
Now I want limbs to get whereon to feed.
Hodge. Limbs? Hast thou not hands, man? Thou shalt never see a shoemaker want bread, though he have but three fingers on a hand.
Ralph. Yet all this while I hear not of my Jane.
Marg. O Ralph, your wife,—perdy, we know not what’s become of her. She was here a while, and because she was married, grew more stately than became her; I checked her, and so forth; away she flung, never returned, nor said bye nor bah; and, Ralph, you know, “ka me, ka thee.”[70] And so, as I tell ye——Roger, is not Firk come yet?
Hodge. No, forsooth.
Marg. And so, indeed, we heard not of her, but I hear she lives in London; but let that pass. If she had wanted, she might have opened her case to me or my husband, or to any of my men; I am sure, there’s not any of them, perdy, but would have done her good to his power. Hans, look if Firk be come.
Hans. Yaw, ik sal, vro.[71] [Exit Hans.