Pis. Are wood and coals brought up to make a fire?
Is the meat spitted, ready to lie down?
For bake-meats I'll have none, the world's too hard.
There's geese, too, now I remember me;
Bid Maudlin lay the giblets in paste.
Here's nothing thought upon, but what I do.
Stay, Frisco, see who rings: look to the door,
Let none come in, I charge, were he my father.
[Exit Frisco.
I'll keep them, whilst I have them. Frisco, who is it?
Re-enter Frisco.
Fris. She is come, in faith.
Pis. Who is come?
Fris. Mistress Sushance, Mistress Moore's daughter.
Pis. Mistress Susan, ass? O, she must come in.
Fris. Hang him, if he keep out a wench:
If the wench keep not out him, so it is.
Enter Walgrave in woman's attire.