Mom. No more did you, Wynnifred: you enterferde with them all in truth.
Wyn. O Monstrous Lord by this light!
Mom. Now sir to make my tale short I will doe that which she did not; vz. leave out the two first. The third comming, the third night for his turne—
Wyn. My Lord, my Lord, my Lady does that that no body else does, desires your company; and so fare you well.
Mom. O stay a little sweet Wynnifred, helpe me but to trusse my Poynts againe, and have with you.
Wyn. Not I by my truth my Lord, I had rather see your hose about your heeles, then I would helpe you to trusse a poynt.
Mom. O witty Wynnifred? for that jest, take thy passeport, and tell thy Ladie[14], thou leftst me with my hose about my heeles.
Wyn. Well, well my Lord you shall sit till the mosse grow about your heeles, ere I come at you againe. [Exit.
Mom. She cannot abide to heare of her three Suiters, but is not this very fit my sweet Clarence? Thou seest my rare Neece cannot sleepe without me; but for thy company sake, she shall to night; and in the morning I will visit her earely; when doe thou but stand in that place, and thou maiest chance heare (but art sure to see) in what subtill, and farre-fetcht manner Ile solicite her about thee.
Cla. Thank's, worthy Lord.