Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn:
I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and
now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought
you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe
Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them
away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of
them
Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight
shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn,
for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you,
foure and twentie pounds