Cittie wife. Why I hope your husband is able to maintain you better, are there not nights as well as daies? does he not sleepe sometimes? has he no pockets about him, cannot you search his breeches? anything you find in his breeches is your owne.
Hostis. But may a woman doe that with safety?
Cittie wife. I, and more, why should she not? why what is his is yours, what's yours your owne.
Hostis. The best hope I have is; you knowe my Guest Mistris Gettica, she has pawnd her Jewels to me already, and this night I look for her Hood and her tyer, or if the worst chance, I know I can intreate her to weare my cloathes, and let me goe in her attire to Court.
Cittie wife. Or if all faile, you may hire a good suit at a Jewes, or at a broakers; tis a common thing and speacially among the common sort.
Enter Host and Constable.
Host. To search through my house! I have no Varlets, no knaves, no stewd prunes, no she fierie phagies [faces?]; my Chambers are swept, my sinkes are all scowred, the honest shall come in, the knaves shall goe by; yet will I, maister Constable, goe search through my house, I care not a sheepes skin.
Const. We are compeld to doe it, mine host; a Gentleman is robd last night, & we are to search every privy corner.
Host. Mine host is true Mettall, a man of reputation, a true Holefernes, he loves juice of grapes, and welcom, maister Constable. [Exit.
Acut. Graccus, how likst thou this?