now must be at your commandment.

GEORGE.
The more patient fools are ye both, to suffer it.

BARDE.
Suffer it! mend it thou or he, if ye can or dare. I tell thee, fellows,
and she were the Mayor of London's wife, had I her once in my
possession, I would keep her in spite of him that durst say nay.

GEORGE.
I tell thee, Lombard, these words should cost thy best cape, were I
not curbed by duty and obedience: the Mayor of London's wife!
Oh God, shall it be thus?

DOLL.
Why, Betts, am not I as dear t m husband as my lord Mayor's wife
to him? and wilt thou so neglectly suffer thine own shame?--Hands
off, proud stranger! or, by him that bought me, if men's milky
hearts dare not strike a stranger, yet women beat them down, ere
they bear these abuses.

BARDE.
Mistress, I say you shall along with me.

DOLL.
Touch not Doll Williamson, least she lay thee along on God's dear
earth.--And you, sir [To Caveler], that allow such coarse cates to
carpenters, whilst pigeons, which they pay for, must serve your
dainty appetite, deliver them back to my husband again, or I'll call