Bel. And be asham'd?
Ros. I am asham'd.
Bel. Cry.
Ros. It will be hard to do, Sir.
Bel. Cry instantly;
Cry monstrously, that all the Town may hear thee;
Cry seriously, as if thou hadst lost thy Monkey;
And as I like thy tears.
Enter Lilia, and four Women laughing.
Ros. Now.
Bel. How? how? do ye jear me?
Have ye broke your bounds again, Dame?
Ros. Yes, and laugh at ye,
And laugh most heartily.
Bel. What are these, Whirl-winds?
Is Hell broke loose, and all the Furies flutter'd?
Am I greas'd once again?