Doll.

By my troth, thou art as jealous a man as lives.

Sir John.

Canst thou blame me, Doll? thou art my lands, my goods^{7 note}

, my jewels, my wealth, my purse: none walks within forty miles of London, but 'a plies thee as truly as the parish does the poor man's box.

Doll.

I am as true to thee as the stone is in the wall; and thou know'st well enough I was in as good doing^{8 note} when I came to thee, as any wench need to be; and therefore thou hast tried me, that thou hast: and I will not be kept as I have been, that I will not.

Sir John.

Doll, if this blade hold, there's not a pedlar walks with a pack, but thou shalt as boldly choose of his wares, as with thy ready money in a merchant's shop: we'll have as good silver as the king coins any.

Doll.

What, is all the gold spent you took the last day from the courtier?

Sir John.

'Tis gone, Doll, 'tis flown; merrily come, merrily gone. He comes a horseback that must pay for all; we'll have as good meat as money can get, and as good gowns as can be bought for gold: be merry wench, the malt-man comes on Monday.

Doll.

You might have left me at Cobham, until you had been better provided for.

Sir John.

No, sweet Doll, no; I like not that. Yon old ruffian is not for the priest; I do not like a new clerk should come in the old belfry.

Doll.

Thou art a mad priest, i'faith.

Sir John.

Come Doll, I'll see thee safe at some alehouse here at Cray; and the next sheep that comes shall leave behind his fleece.