SAM.
Why, the more fool she; aye, the more ninny hammer she.

OLIVER.
Why, Sam, why?

SAM.
Why, he's married to another Long ago.

AMBO.
Yfaith, ye jest.

SAM.
Why, did you not know that till now? why, he's married, beats
his wife, and has two or three children by her: for you must
note that any woman bears the more when she is beaten.

RALPH.
Aye, that's true, for she bears the blows.

OLIVER.
Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years wages, my young mistress
knew so much; she'd run upon the left hand of her wit, and
ne'er be her own woman again.

SAM.
And I think she was blest in her Cradle, that he never came
in her bed; why, he has consumed all, pawnd his lands, and
made his university brother stand in wax for him--There's a
fine phrase for a scrivener! puh, he owes more then his skin's