Mi. Go. Ile lay my life that it was Barnses sonne. 65
Mi. Ba. No, forsooth, it was Barnses wife. [Advancing to seize torch.]
Mi. Gou. A plague upon her, how she made me start! [Aside].—
Mistresse, let go the torch. [They struggle for it.]
Mis. Bar. No, but I will not.
Mh. Gou. Ile thrust it in thy face, then. 70
Mi. Bar. But you shall not.
Mi. Gou. Let go, I say.
Mi. Ba. Let you go, for tis mine.
Mis. Go. But my possession saies, it is none of thine.