angry vvomen of Abington.
Ere she came hether, how now wife, how ist?
What are ye yet in charity and loue with mistresse Barnes?
What are ye yet in charity and loue with mistresse Barnes?
Mi. Gou. What mistris Barnes, why mistris Barnes I pray
M. Gou. Because she is your neighbour and
Mi. Gou. And what?
And a iealous slandering spitefull queane she is,
One that would blur my reputation,
With her approbrious mallice if she could,
She wrongs her husband, to abuse my fame,
Tis knowne that I haue liude in honest name,
All my life time, and bin your right true wife.
And a iealous slandering spitefull queane she is,
One that would blur my reputation,
With her approbrious mallice if she could,
She wrongs her husband, to abuse my fame,
Tis knowne that I haue liude in honest name,
All my life time, and bin your right true wife.
M. Gour. I entertaine no other thought my wife,
And my opinion's sound of your behauiour.
And my opinion's sound of your behauiour.
Mis. Gou. And my behauiour is as sound as it,
But her ill speeches seekes to rot my credit,
And eate it with the worme of hate and mallice.
But her ill speeches seekes to rot my credit,
And eate it with the worme of hate and mallice.
M. Gou. Why then preserue it you by patience.
Mi. Gou. By patience, would ye haue me shame my selfe,
And cussen my selfe to beare her iniuries:
Not while her eyes be open will I yeelde,
A word, a letter, a sillables valew,
But equall and make euen her wrongs to me,
To her againe.
And cussen my selfe to beare her iniuries:
Not while her eyes be open will I yeelde,
A word, a letter, a sillables valew,
But equall and make euen her wrongs to me,
To her againe.
M. Gou. Then in good faith wife ye are more to blame.
Mi. Gou. Am I too blame sir pray what letters this.
M. Gou. There is a dearth of manners in ye wife,
Rudelie to snatch it from me, giue it me?
Rudelie to snatch it from me, giue it me?
Mi. Gou. You shall not haue it, till I haue read it.
M, Gou. Giue me it then, and I will read it to you?
Mi. Gou, No, no, it shall not need, I am a scholler
Good enough to read a letter sir,
Good enough to read a letter sir,
M. Gou. Gods passion, if she knew but the contents,
Sheele seeke to crosse this match, she shall not read it.
Wife, giue it me, come, come, giue it me.
Sheele seeke to crosse this match, she shall not read it.
Wife, giue it me, come, come, giue it me.
Mi. Gou. Husband, in very deed you shall not haue it.
M. Gou. What will you mooue me to impatience then?
Mi. Gou. Tut, tell not me of your impatience,
But since you talke sir of impatience,
You shall not haue the letter by this light,
Till I haue read it, soule ile burne it first.
But since you talke sir of impatience,
You shall not haue the letter by this light,
Till I haue read it, soule ile burne it first.
M. Gou.
