Mary. I did not, Madam!
Elizabeth. Why did not Mary Fitton Cry help against—- which lover?
Mary. Lover, Madam?
Elizabeth. There’s tinker, tailor, soldier—the old rhyme— There’s Pembroke, Marlowe, Shakespeare—
Mary. Madam! Madam! I’ll not bear this!
Elizabeth. Ay, you have fierce black eyes— What will you do then if you will not bear it? You have leave to show.
Mary. I say I did cry out To both that they should cease.
Elizabeth. So you cried out! Bring up your witnesses that heard you cry!
Mary. I did not stand and watch. I ran upon them. I was flung off and bruised.
Elizabeth. Show me the bruise!