Then goe, Loretta.
Lor. 'Las, my Lord, you know——
Nic. Feare nothing, Wench, giue her this chaine of pearle,
With it my selfe.
Lor. My Lord, I’le see what I can doe with her,
But—
Nic. What, Loretta? Oh, you looke for a fee:
Here, take this Gold: And if thou canst preuaile,
(Harke in thine eare) When I am King——
Lor. I thanke your Lordship: Ha, ha, ha.— |Exit Lor.|