Wife. Her clothes are all yonder, my lord.
Grace. And even those same she had on to-day.
Proudly. Madam, where is your husband?
Wife. Rid into the country.
Fee. O' my conscience, rid into France with your sister.
Omnes. Away, away; for shame!
Fee. Why, I hope she is not the first lady that has ran away with other women's husbands.
Well. It may be she's stolen out to see a play.
Proudly. Who should go with her, man?
Wid. Upon my life, you'll hear of her at Master Ingen's house: some love pass'd betwixt them, and we heard that he was married to-day to another.