Val._ Whose that that knocks and bounces, what a Devil ails you,
is hell broke loose, or do you keep an Iron mill?

_Enter a_ Servant.

_Ser._ 'Tis a Gentlewoman Sir that must needs speak with you.

_Val._ A Gentlewoman? what Gentlewoman, what have I to do with
Gentlewomen?

_Ser._ She will not be answered Sir.

_Val._ Fling up the bed and let her in, I'le try how gentle she is--
[_Exit_ Servant.

This Sack has fill'd my head so full of babies, I am almost mad; what
Gentlewoman should this be? I hope she has brought me no butter print
along with her to lay to my charge, if she have 'tis all one, I'le
forswear it.

_Enter_ Widow.

_Wid._ O you're a noble Gallant, send off your Servant pray.
[_Exit_ Servant.

_Val._ She will not ravish me? by this light she looks as sharp set
as a Sparrow hawk, what wouldst thou woman?

_Wid._ O you have used me kindly, and like a Gentleman, this is to
trust to you.

_Val._ Trust to me, for what?

_Wid._ Because I said in jest once, you were a handsom man, one I
could like well, and fooling, made you believe I loved you, and might be
brought to marrie.

_Val._ The widow is drunk too.

_Wid._ You out of this, which is a fine discretion, give out the
matter's done, you have won and wed me, and that you have put, fairly
put for an heir too, these are fine rumours to advance my credit: i'th'
name of mischief what did you mean?

_Val._ That you loved me, and that you might be brought to marrie
me? why, what a Devil do you mean, widow?

_Wid._ 'Twas a fine trick too, to tell the world though you had
enjoyed your first wish you wished, the wealth you aimed at, that I was
poor, which is most true, I am, have sold my lands, because I love not
those vexations, yet for mine honours sake, if you must be prating, and
for my credits sake in the Town.

_Val._ I tell thee widow, I like thee ten times better, now thou
hast no Lands, for now thy hopes and cares lye on thy husband, if e're
thou marryest more.

_Wid._ Have not you married me, and for this main cause, now as you
report it, to be your Nurse?

_Val._ My Nurse? why, what am I grown to, give me the Glass, my
Nurse.

_Wid._ You n'er said truer, I must confess I did a little favour
you, and with some labour might have been perswaded, but when I found I
must be hourly troubled, with making broths, and dawbing your decayes
with swadling, and with stitching up your ruines