Goos. O good Madam, I feed am with nothing but fire, a purpose, Ile besworne they eat me five Faggots a-weeke in Charcoale.
Tal. Nay he has the strangest devices, Ladies, that ever you heard, I warrent ye.
Fur. That's a strange device indeed, my Lord.
Hip. But your sowing, sir Gyles, is a most gentlewoman-like quality, I assure you.
Pene. O farr away, for now, servant, you neede never marry, you are both husband, and wife your selfe.
Goos. Nay indeed, mistris, I wood faine marry for all that, and ile tell you my reason, if you will.
Pene. Let's here it good servant.
Goos. Why, Madam, we have a great match at football towards, married men against batchellers, and the married men be all my friends, so I wood faine marry to take the married mens parts in truth.
Hip. The best reason for marriage that ever I heard sir Gyles.
Goos. I pray will you keepe my worke a little, Mistris; I must needes straine a little courtesie in truth. [Exit Sir Gyles.