Lisa. Take what disguise
You in your own discretion shall think fittest,
To keep your self unknown.
Lanc. I warrant ye;
'Tis not the first time I have gone invisible:
I am as fine a Fairie in a business
Concerning night-work—
Lisa. Leave your vanities:
With this purse (which deliver'd,
You may spare your Oratory) convey this Letter to
Calista's woman.
Lanc. 'Tis a handsom girle, Mistris Clarinda.
Lisa. I have made her mine. You know your work.
Lan. And if I sweat not in it,
At my return discard me. [Exit.
Lisa. O Calista! the fairest! cruellest!
Enter Clarange.
Clar. So early stirring? a good day to you.
Lisa. I was viewing Sir,
The site of your house, and the handsomness about it:
Believe me it stands healthfully and sweetly.