Duke. Yes, sure.
Fred. 'Tis a rare one.
Enter Bawd (above.)
Du. The Song confirms her here too: for if ye mark it,
It spake of liberty, and free enjoying
The happy end of pleasure.
[Pet.] Look ye there, Sir,
Do ye know that head?
Fred. 'Tis my good Landlady,
I find fear has done all this.
John. She I swear,
And now do I know by the hanging of her Hood,
She is parcel drunk: shall we go in?
Duke. Not yet, Sir.
Petr. No, let 'em take their pleasure.
Duke. When it is highest, [Musick.
We'll step in, and amaze 'em: peace, more Musick.