Alb.  But you know, wife. here are the greatest ladies, and gallantest gentlemen of Rome, to be entertained in our house now; and I would fain advise thee to entertain them in the best sort, i’faith, wife.

Chloe.  In sincerity, did you ever hear a man talk so idly?  You would seem to be master! you would have your spoke in my cart! you would advise me to entertain ladies and gentlemen!  Because you can marshal your pack-needles, horse-combs, hobby-horses, and wall-candlesticks in your warehouse better than I, therefore you can tell how to entertain ladies and gentlefolks better than I?

Alb.  O, my sweet wife, upbraid me not with that; gain savours sweetly from any thing; he that respects to get, must relish all commodities alike, and admit no difference between oade and frankincense, or the most precious balsamum and a tar-barrel.

Chloe.  Marry, foh! you sell snuffers too, if you be remember’d; but I pray you let me buy them out of your hand; for, I tell you true, I take it highly in snuff, to learn how to entertain gentlefolks of you, at these years, i’faith.  Alas, man, there was not a gentleman came to your house in your t’other wife’s time, I hope! nor a lady, nor music, nor masques!  Nor you nor your house were so much as spoken of, before I disbased myself, from my hood and my farthingal, to these bum-rowls and your whale-bone bodice.

Alb.  Look here, my sweet wife; I am mum, my dear mummia, my balsamum, my spermaceti, and my very city of—–­She has the most best, true, feminine wit in Rome!

Cris.  I have heard so, sir; and do most vehemently desire to participate the knowledge of her fair features.

Alb.  Ah, peace; you shall hear more anon:  be not seen yet, I pray you; not yet:  observe.
          
                                              [Exit. 
Chloe.  ’Sbody! give husbands the head a little more, and they’ll be nothing but head shortly:  What’s he there?

1 Maid.  I know not, forsooth.

2 Maid.  Who would you speak with, sir?

Cris.  I would speak with my cousin Cytheris.

2 Maid.  He is one, forsooth, would speak with his cousin Cytheris.

Chloe.  Is she your cousin, sir?

Cris. [coming forward.] Yes, in truth, forsooth, for fault of a better.

Chloe.  She is a gentlewoman.

Cris.  Or else she should not be my cousin, I assure you.

Chloe.  Are you a gentleman born?

Cris.  That I am, lady; you shall see mine arms, if it please you.

Chloe.  No, your legs do sufficiently shew you are a gentleman born, sir; for a man borne upon little legs, is always a gentleman born.

Cris.  Yet, I pray you, vouchsafe the sight of my arms, mistress; for I bear them about me, to have them seen:  My name is Crispinus or Crispinas indeed; which is well expressed in my arms; a face crying in chief; and beneath it a bloody toe, between three thorns pungent.