MRS BAR. God's Lord, be rul'd, be rul'd! What, think ye I have such a baby's wit, To have a rod's correction for my tongue? School infancy! I am of age to speak, And I know when to speak: shall I be chid For such a-- MRS GOUR. What-a? nay, mistress, speak it out; I scorn your stopp'd compares: compare not me To any but your equals, Mistress Barnes. MR GOUR. Peace, wife, be quiet. MR BAR. O, persuade, persuade! Wife, Mistress Goursey, shall I win your thoughts To composition of some kind effects? Wife, if you love your credit, leave this strife, And come shake hands with Mistress Goursey here. MRS BAR. Shall I shake hands? let her go shake her heels; She gets nor hands nor friendship at my hands: And so, sir, while I live, I will take heed, What guests I bid again unto my house. MR BAR. Impatient woman, will you be so stiff In this absurdness? MRS BAR. I am impatient now I speak; But, sir, I'll tell you more another time: Go to, I will not take it as I have done. [_Exit_. MRS GOUR. Nay, she might stay; I will not long be here To trouble her. Well, Master Barnes, I am sorry that it was our haps to-day, To have our pleasures parted with this fray: I am sorry too for all that is amiss, Especially that you are mov'd in this; But be not so, 'tis but a woman's jar: Their tongues are weapons, words their blows of war; 'Twas but a while we buffeted, you saw, And each of us was willing to withdraw; There was no harm nor bloodshed, you did see: Tush, fear us not, for we shall well agree. I take my leave, sir. Come, kind-hearted man, That speaks his wife so fair--ay, now and then; I know you would not for an hundreth pound, That I should hear your voice's churlish sound; I know you have a far more milder tune Than "Peace, be quiet, wife;" but I have done. Will ye go home? the door directs the way; But, if you will not, my duty is to stay[225]. MR BAR. Ha, ha! why, here's a right woman, is there not? They both have din'd, yet see what stomachs they have! MR. GOUR. Well, Master Barnes, we cannot do withal[226]: Let us be friends still-- MR BAR. O Master Goursey, the mettle of our minds, Having the temper of true reason in them. Affords[227] a better edge of argument For the maintain of our familiar loves Than the soft leaden wit of women can; Wherefore with all the parts of neighbour-love I [do] impart[228] myself to Master Goursey. MR GOUR. And with exchange of love I do receive it: Then here we'll part, partners of two curs'd wives. MR BAR. O, where shall we find a man so bless'd that is not? But come; your business and my home-affairs Makes me deliver that unfriendly word 'Mongst friends--farewell. MR GOUR. Twenty farewells, sir. MR BAR. But hark ye, Master Goursey; Look ye persuade at home, as I will do: What, man! we must not always have them foes. MR GOUR. If I can help it. MR BAR. God help, God help! Women are even untoward creatures still.