Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

Scene 6.

Enter Monsieur Malateste, and Madam Bonit his Wife.

MAlateste.

Wife, I have some occasion to sell some Land, and I have none that is so convenient to sell as your Joynture.

Bonit.

All my Friends will condemn me for a fool, if I should part with my Joynture.

Malateste.

Why then you will not part with it?

Bonit.

I do not say so: for I think you so honest a man, that if you should die before me, as Heaven forbid you should.

Malateste.

Nay leave your prayers.

Bonit.

Well Husband; you shall have my Joynture

Malateste.

If I shall, go fetch it.

She goes out, and comes back and brings the writings, and gives it him, and then he makes haste to be gone.

Bonit.

Surely Husband, I deserve a kiss for't.

Malateste.

I cannot stay to kiss.

Enter Madam Bonits Maid Joan.

Ioan.

Madam, what will you have for your supper: for I hear my Master doth not sup at home.

Bonit.

Any thing Ione, a little Ponado, or Water-gruel.

Ioan.

Your Ladyships Diet is not costly.

It satisfies Nature as well as costly Olio's or Bisks; and I desire onely to feed my Hunger, not my Gusto: for I am neither gluttonous nor lickerish.

Ioan.

No, I'll be sworn are you not.

Exeunt.