Art thou afraid of breaking, how so?

PIP. Can you blame me, mistress? I am crack'd already.

MRS ART. Crack'd, Pipkin, how? hath any crack'd your crown?

PIP. No, mistress; I thank God,
My crown is current, but--

MRS ART. But what?

PIP. The maid gave me not my supper yesternight, so that indeed my belly
wambled, and standing near the great sea-coal fire in the hall, and not
being full, on the sudden I crack'd, and you know, mistress, a pipkin is
soon broken.

MRS ART. Sirrah, run to the Exchange, and if you there
Can find my husband, pray him to come home;
Tell him I will not eat a bit of bread
Until I see him; prythee, Pipkin, run.

PIP. By'r Lady, mistress, if I should tell him so, it may be he would
not come, were it for no other cause but to save charges; I'll rather
tell him, if he come not quickly, you will eat up all the meat in the
house, and then, if he be of my stomach, he will run every foot, and
make the more haste to dinner.

MRS ART. Ay, thou may'st jest; my heart is not so light
It can digest the least conceit of joy:
Entreat him fairly, though I think he loves
All places worse that he beholds me in.
Wilt thou begone?

PIP. Whither, mistress? to the 'Change?

MRS ART. Ay, to the 'Change.

PIP. I will, mistress: hoping my master will go so oft to the 'Change,
that at length he will change his mind, and use you more kindly. O, it
were brave if my master could meet with a merchant of ill-ventures, to
bargain with him for all his bad conditions, and he sell them outright!
you should have a quieter heart, and we all a quieter house. But hoping,
mistress, you will pass over all these jars and squabbles in good health,
as my master was at the making thereof, I commit you.

MRS ART. Make haste again, I prythee. [_Exit_ PIPKIN.] Till I see him,
My heart will never be at rest within me:
My husband hath of late so much estrang'd
His words, his deeds, his heart from me,
That I can seldom have his company;
And even that seldom with such discontent,
Such frowns, such chidings, such impatience,
That did not truth and virtue arm my thoughts,
They would confound me with despair and hate,
And make me run into extremities.
Had I deserv'd the least bad look from him,
I should account myself too bad to live,
But honouring him in love and chastity,
All judgments censure freely of my wrongs.
[_Exit_.

_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN.