MRS GOUR. A plague upon her, how she made me start! [Aside.]
Mistress, let go the torch.
MRS BAR. No, but I will not.
MRS GOUR. I'll thrust it in thy face, then.
MRS BAR. But you shall not.
MRS GOUR. Let go, I say.
MRS BAR. Let you go, for 'tis mine.
MRS GOUR. But my possession says, it is none of thine.
MRS BAR. Nay, I have hold too.
MRS GOUR. Well, let go thy hold,
Or I will spurn thee.
MRS BAR. Do; I can spurn thee too.