[042] Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
[043] Ros. ’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter:
[045] O that your face were not so full of O’s!
[046] Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.
[047] Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?
Kath. Madam, this glove.
Prin.
Did he not send you twain?
[049] Kath. Yes, madam, and, moreover,