Mom. O Wynnifred, a man may know by the market-folkes how the market goes.
Wyn. So you may, my Lord, but I know few Lords that thinke scorne to go to that market themselves.
Mom. To goe to it Wynnifred? nay to ride to it yfaith.
Wyn. Thats more then I know my Lord.
Mom. Youle not beleeve it till you are then a horsebacke, will ye?
Wyn. Come, come, I am sent of a message to you, will you heare it?
Mom. Stoppe, stoppe, faire Wynnifred, would you have audience so soone, there were no state in that yfaith. This faire gentlewoman sir—
Wyn. Now we shall have a fiction I beleive.
Mom. Had three Suiters at once.
Wyn. Youle leave out none my Lord.