[_Exit_.
_Hostis_. I, twas my hard fortune to be an Hostesse; time was I might
have done other wise.
_Enter Cittizens Wife_.
_City W_. Why how now, woman, a'th olde disease still? will it never be
better? cannot a Woman finde one kinde man amongst twentie? Ah the daies
I have seen, when a Womans will was a lawe: If I had a mind to such a
thing, or such a thing, I could have had it, but twa's never better
since men were Purse-bearers.
_Hosty_. Mine is een the unnaturallist man to his Wife.
_Citie wi_. Truely, and commonly are all such fat men: ile tell thee,
Gossip, I have buried sixe, I, sixe husbands, but if I should live to
have as many more, as I know not what may happen, but sure Ide never
have such a fatte man: they be the most unweldey men; that woman[244]
shall not want a sore stomack, that's troubled with them I warrant her.
_Hosty_. And hee maintaines me heare like I knowe not what.
_City wi_. I, and what say, they are their wives head; well if he be the
head, shee's the body, and the body is to beare the head, and the body
is to beare the pursse.
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