Fred. Come, shall we go? 'tis late.
Jac. Yes any whither,
But no more Musick, it has made me dull.
Fab. Faith any thing but drinking disturbs thee Jacomo,
We'l ev'n to bed.
Jac. Content.
Fab. Thou wilt dream of wenches.
Jac. I never think of any I thank Heaven
But when I am drunk, and then 'tis but to cast
A cheap way how they may be all destroy'd
Like vermine; let's away, I am very sleepy.
Fab. I, thou art ever so, or angry, come. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Julio, and Angelo.