Ros. Dye for love!
And love of such a Youth! I would dye for a Dog first,
He that kills me I'll give him leave to eat me;
I'll know men better ere I sigh for any of 'em.
Lil. Ye have done a worthy act, Sir; a most famous;
Ye have kill'd a Maid the wrong way, ye are a conqueror.
Ros. A Conquerour? a Cobler; hang him Sowter;
Go hide thy self for shame, go lose thy memory;
Live not 'mongst Men; thou art a Beast, a Monster;
A Blatant Beast.
Lil. If ye have yet any honesty,
Or ever heard of any; take my Counsel;
Off with your Garters: and seek out a Bough,
A handsom Bough; (for I would have ye hang like a Gentleman;)
And write some doleful matter to the World,
A Warning to hard hearted men.
Mir. Out Kitlings:
What Catterwauling's here? what Gibbing?
Do you think my heart is softned with a black Santis?
Shew me some reason.
Enter Oriana on a Bed.
Ros. Here then, here is a reason.
Nant. Now, if ye be a man, let this sight shake ye.
La-C. Alas poor Gentlewoman! do you know me, Lady?
Lug. How she looks up, and stares!