Enter[245] Prentice.
Pren. Mistris, my Maister cals for ye.
Hostis. Goe, ile come anon, hees not so hastie to give me what I want, I warrant ye.
[Exit[245] Prentice.
City w. No, would he were; little thinkes the husband what goes through the wives hand, washing, wringing, and rubbing, up early, down late, & a thousand things they looke not too.
Hostis. And yet they must have the government of all.
City w. And great reason they have for it, but a wise man will put in a Woman's hand: what sheele save that hee spends.
Hostis. You have a pretty Ruffe, how deepe is it?
City w. Nay, this is but shallowe, marrie I have a Ruffe is a quarter deepe, measured by the yard.
Hostis. Indeede, by the yard.