Citty w. Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all conscience: they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after.
Hostis. A tedious time, by Lady; a month were enough.
Cittie w. I, halfe a month; winter nights are long and colde. Ile tell ye, I have buried sixe, and thank my good fortune I ever knewe the next ere the other was in his winding sheete.
Pre. Mistris, my maister is angrie, and the Guests cal for their Hostesse.
Hostis. Goe, I come: Gossip, when shall I see you agen?
Citty w. Nay, when shall I see you abroad? sildome, i'me sure.
Hostis. I must needes away; God buy you, Gossip.
Cittie w. God buy ye; Gods so, I have forgot wherefore I came: a word ere you goe, the party yee wott on commends him unto ye, he that met the other party in the white felt, the yellow scarf, and the round Venetian,[246] when the other party kis't you, and I broake the jest on him, when hee said kisses kindeles Coules and love searches.
Hostis. Oh! I remember him, yes faith, hee's prettie well set; hee ha's the right trick with the tongue in his kisse, and hee dances reasonably comely, but he fals heavie.
Citty w. He savours of a kinde of Gallant, but not of a Courtyer.