Enter Alinda, as a fool.
Gent. Here's one o'th' house, a fool, an idiot Sir;
May be she is going home; she'l be a guide to ye:
And so I kiss your hand. [Exit.
Alph. I am your servant.
Alin. O now I am lost, lost, lost, Lord, how I tremble!
My Father, arm'd in all his hates and angers;
This is more misery than I have scap'd yet.
Alph. Fool, fool.
Alin. He knows me not; will ye give me two pence?
And gaffer, here's a Crow-flower, and a Dazie;
I have some pie in my pocket too.
Alph. This is an arrant fool,
An ignorant thing.
Alin. Believe so, and I am happy.
Alph. Dost thou dwell in Sigovia, fool?
Alin. No no, I dwell in Heaven.
And I have a fine little house, made of Marmalad.
And I am a lone woman, and I spin for Saint Peter;
I have a hundred little children, and they sing Psalms with me.