MRS BAR. That Mistress Goursey's in the hitting vein.
MRS GOUR. I hot[224] your man.
MRS BAR. Ay, ay, my man, my man; but, had I known,
I would have had my man stood nearer home.
MRS GOUR. Why, had ye kept your man in his right place,
I should not then have hit him with an ace.
MRS BAR. Right, by the Lord! a plague upon the bones!
MRS GOUR. And a hot mischief on the curser too!
MR BAR. How now, wife?
MR GOUR. Why, what's the matter, woman?
MRS GOUR. It is no matter; I am—
MRS BAR. Ay, you are—