Have I not been always a kind sister to you, and in signs and tokens showed it? Did I not send money to you at Cambridge, when you were but a freshman? wrought you purses and bands; and since you came to th' inns-o'-court, a fair pair of hangers? Have you not taken rings from me, which I have been fain to say I have lost when you had pawned them; and yet was never beholden to you for a pair of gloves?
W. Rash. A woman's tongue, I see, is like a bell,
That, once being set agoing, goes itself.
Joyce. And yet you, to join with my sister against me, send one here to play upon me, whilst you laugh and leer, and make a pastime on me. Is this brotherly done? No, it is barbarous; and a Turk would blush to offer it to a Christian. But I will think on't, and have it written in my heart, when it hath slipped your memories.
W. Rash. When will your tongue be weary?
Joyce. Never.
W. Rash. How! never? Come, talk, and I'll talk with you:
I'll try the nimble footmanship of your tongue;
And if you can out-talk me, your's be the victory.
[Here they two talk and rail what they list; and then Will Rash speaks to Staines.
All speak. Ud's foot! dost thou stand by, and do nothing?
Come, talk, and drown her clamours.
[Here they all three, talk, and Joyce gives over, weeping, and Exit.
Enter Gertrude and Geraldine.