Scoen. IV.
Enter Doctor and Midwife.
Lod.
Whither do you press? who would you speak withall?
Doctor.
O Sir, for Charity sake give us access unto the holy woman.
Lod.
Who are you? or from whence?
Doct.
We are poor Pilgrims man and wife, that are upon our way struck with sad pain and sorrow.
Andr.
Alas poor Pilgrims! here's she must do you good.
Eul.
How divine Justice throwes my Enemies in∣to my hands? what are your griefes?
Doct.
My wife is struck with dumbness.
Andr.
Hold a little,
That's the greatest grief a woman can endure:
But trouble not thy self to seek for cure.
Too many a man i'th' world will change with thee
A wife that of her Language is too free,
And give good Boot.
Eul.
Pray Sir be you silent.
And where's your pain?
Doct.
Here in this hand;