Mis. Ha, ha, ha.
Lor. Laugh’st thou, inhumane wretch? By my best hope,
But that thy malice hath deseru’d reuenge
More infamous, and publique, then to fall
By me in priuate, I would hew thy flesh
Smaller then Attomes.
Mis. What, haue we here
A Woman rampant? ha!
Tempt me not, Syren, lest thou dost inuoke
A Furie worse then Woman.