Lanc. But one i'th' Parlour,
I see it simper hither, pray come this way.
Lis. Step to the Garden-door, and feel and't be open.
Lan. I am going, luck deliver me from the saw-pits,
Or I am buried quick; I hear a Dog,
No, 'tis a Cricket, ha? here's a Cuckold buried,
Take heed of his horns, Sir, here's the door, 'tis open.
[Clarinda at the door.
Clar. Who's there?
Lis. Friend.
Clar. Sir, Lisander?
Lis. I.
Clar. Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise.
Lis. Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, Sirrah,
And be sure ye sleep not.