_Enter_ Bartolus, _and_ Amaranta.
_Amar_.
Why will ye bring men in, and yet be jealous?
Why will ye lodge a young man, a man able,
And yet repine?
_Bar_.
He shall not trouble thee, sweet,
A modest poor slight thing, did I not tell thee
He was only given to the Book, and for that
How Royally he paies? finds his own meat too.
_Amar_.
I will not have him here: I know your courses,
And what fits you will fall into of madness.
_Bar_.
'Faith, I will not, Wife.
_Amar_.