_Lel._ Some ill woman for her use would give A million for this Wench, she is so subtle.
_Wom._ Good Sir, desire it not, I dare not do it, For since your last being here, Sir, believe me, She has griev'd her self out of all Company, And (sweet Soul) almost out of life too.
_Jul._ Prithee, Let me but speak one word.
_Wom._ You will offend, Sir, And yet your name is more familiar with her Than any thing but sorrow, good Sir, go.
_Ang._ This little Varlet hath her Lesson perfect, These are the baits they bob with.
_Wom._ I shall be chidden cruelly for this; But you are such a Gentleman--
_Ang._ There's a new Tyre, wench; peace, thou art well enough.
_Wom._ Yes, for Heavens sake stay, 'Tis all she feeds upon.
_Ang._ Now will I pray devoutly, for there's need on't.
_Away delights, go seek some other dwelling,_ _For I must dye:_ _Farewel false Love, thy tongue is ever telling_ _Lye after Lye._ _For ever let me rest now from thy smarts,_ _Alas, for pity go,_ _And fire their hearts_ _That have been hard to thee, mine was not so._
_Never again deluding Love shall know me,_ _For I will dye;_ _And all those griefs that think to over-grow me,_ _Shall be as I:_ _For ever will I sleep, while poor Maids cry,_ _Alas, for pity stay,_ _And let us dye_ _With thee, men cannot mock us in the day._
_Jul._ Mistriss? not one word, Mistriss if I grieve ye I can depart again.
_Ang._ Let's go then quickly, For if she get from under this dark Cloud, We shall both sweat I fear, for't.
_Jul._ Do but speak Though you turn from me, and speak bitterly, And I am gone, for that I think will please you.
_Ang._ Oh, that all women were thus silent ever, What fine things they were!
_Jul._ You have look'd on me, When (if there be belief in Womens words Spoken in tears) you swore you lov'd to do so.
_Ang._ Now, _Julio_, play the man, Or such another O me will undo thee: Would I had any thing to keep me busie, I might not hear her; think but what she is, Or I doubt mainly, I shall be i'th' mash too.
_Ang._ Mercy upon me! what a face she has! Would it were vail'd again.
_Lel._ Why did you let This flattering man in to me? did not I Charge thee to keep me from his eyes again, As carefully as thou wouldst keep thine own? Thou hast brought me poyson in a shape of Heaven, Whose violence will break the hearts of all, Of all weak Women, as it hath done mine, That are such fools to love, and look upon him. Good Sir, be gone, you know not what an ease Your absence is.