Le. Prethee, away with it, Ile not be chain’d to him.
Lor. Faith, and ’tis true, a Chaine is the worst Gift
A Louer can send his Mistris, ’tis such an Embleme
Of bondage hereafter. Who’s that?
Enter Lisandro.
Le. Father.
Lis. How fares my worthy Daughter?
Le. Eu’n as one
Deuoted vnto sorrow, griefe and mone.
Lis. Then I must blame you, Ladie, you doe ill,