Clowne. Syrrah, though you bee owner of the boate I'l steare my course at healme.
Fisher. Hands off, I saye. But hark a noyse within Letts cease our controversy till wee see [Noyse. An end of that.
Clowne. Trew, and bee judg'd by the next quiet man wee meete.
Fisher. Content.
Enter after a noyse or tumult, Ashburne, his wyfe, Palestra, Scribonia and Godfrey.
Woman. I'l not beleeve a sillable thou speak'st; False harts and false toonges go together still, They boathe are quick in thee.
Ashb. Have patience woman.
Woman. I have ben too longe a grizell. Not content
To have thy hawnts abroad, where there are marts
And places of lewd brothelry inoughe
Wheare thou maiest wast thy body, purse and creditt,
But thou wooldst make thy private howse a stewes!
Ashb. But heare me, wyfe.
Wom. I'l heare none but myselfe.
Are your legges growne so feeble on the suddeine
They feyle when you shoold travell to your whores,
But you must bringe them home and keepe them heere
Under my nose? I am not so past my sences
But at this age can smell your knavery.