As bigge as a reasonable sufficient--
_Enter Prentice_.
_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister would desire you to come in.
_Citty w_. What? she shall not come yet: if you lay down the bucklers,
you lose the victorie.
_Hostis_. By my troth, I must goe, we shall have such a coyle else.
_Cittie w_. A coyle! why, have you not a tongue in your head? faith if
ye win not all at that weapon, yee are not worthy to be a woman. You
heare not the news abroade?
_Hostis_. No: what newes?
_City W_. No, I warrant ye, you never come abroad; this is to be
troubled with a fatte man, he never comes abroad himself nor suffers his
wife out of his sight: yee shall ever have a fatte Host either on his
bench at the dore or in his chair at the chimney; & there he spits and
spaules a roome like twentie Tobacco-takers. Oh! fye on them, beasts!
_Hostis_. I prethee, what newes?
_Citty w_. Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all
conscience: they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her
husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after.
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