her: I neuer knew the like of this before God la, alas poore Kate, looke before God; shees a sleepe with her eyes open: prit∣tie little roague, Ile wake her, and make her ashamd of it.
Feth.
O youle make her sicker then.
Green.
I warrant you; would all women thought no more hurt then thou doost, now sweet villaine, Kate, Kate.
Kate.
I longd for the merry thought of a phesant.
Green.
She talkes in her sleepe.
Kate.
And the foule-gutted Tripe-wife had got it, & eate halfe of it: and my colour went and came, and my stomach wambled: till I was ready to sound, but a Mid-wife perceiued it, and markt which way my eyes went; and helpt mee to it, but Lord how I pickt it, 'twas the sweetest meate me thought.
Squi.
O pollitick Mistrisse.
Kate.
Ha, ha, ha, I beshrew your hart, Lord where am I?
Green.
I pray thee be not frighted.
Kate.
O I am sick, I am sick, I am sick, O how my flesh trembles: oh some of the Angelica water, I shal haue the Mother presently.
Gree.
Hold downe her stomach good maister Fetherstone, while I fetch some.
Exit.
Feth.
Well dissembled Kate.
Kate.
Pish, I am like some of your Ladies that can be sick when they haue no stomack to lie with their husbands.
Feth.
What mischiuous fortune is this: weel haue a iourney to Ware Kate, to redeeme this misfortune.
Kate.
Well, Cheaters do not win all wayes: that woman that will entertaine a friend, must as well prouide a Closet or Back-doore for him, as a Fether-bed.
Feth.
Be my troth I pitty thy husb••nd.
Kate.
Pitty him, no man dares call him Cuckold; for he weares Sattin: pitty him, he that will pull downe a mans signe, and set vp hornes, there's law for him.
Feth.
Be sick againe, your husband comes.
Enter Greeneshield with a broken shin.
Green.
I haue the worst luck; I thinke I get more bumps and shrewd turnes ith' darke, how do's she maister Fetherstone.
Feth.
Very ill sir; shees troubled with the moother extreamly, I held downe her belly euen now, and I might feele it rise▪
Kate.
O lay me in my bed, I beseech you.