Ned.—Harry, never marry a chamber-maid, for they bring nothing with them but a few old clothes of their mistresses, and for house-keeping, few of them know anything of it; for they can hardly make a pudding or a pie, neither can they spin, nor knit, nor wash, except it be a few laces to make themselves fine withal.
Harry.—What would she be at?
Ned—Why always a-gossiping, there is such a company of them in our street that there's never a day but some or other of them meet together.
Harry.—Where do they meet?
Ned.—Where the best country ale is.
Harry.—What, do they make a sitting of it when they meet?
Ned.—A sitting of it; yes, yes, they will sit from three till ten at night, and drink like fishes, and talk against their husbands.
Harry.—What do you say when she comes home? Do you not ask her where she has been that she stayed so late?
Ned.—I dare not say one word to her, but am glad she will let me go to bed and sleep quietly.
Harry.—What becomes of your children those days; who looks after them all this while?