Mis. Gou. Yea, mistris Barnes, will ye not house your jests, 95
But let them rome abroad so carelesly?
Faith, if your jealious tongue utter another,
Ile crosse ye with a jest, and ye were my mother.— [Aside.]
Come, shall we play?
Mis. Bar. I, what shall we play a game? 100
Mis. Gou. A pound a game.
M. Gou. How, wife?
Mis. Gou. Faith, husband, not a farthing lesse.
M. Gou. It is too much; a shilling were good game.