Lel. Give me my Vail, and bid the Boy go sing
That song above, I gave him; the sad song;
Now if I miss him, I am curst, go, wench,
And tell 'em I have utterly forsworn
All company of men, yet make a venture
At last to let 'em in; thou knowst these things,
Do 'em to th' life.
Wom. I warrant you I am perfect.
Lel. Some ill woman for her use would give
A million for this Wench, she is so subtle.
Enter to the door Julio, and Angelo.
Wom. Good Sir, desire it not, I dare not do it,
For since your last being here, Sir, believe me,
She has griev'd her self out of all Company,
And (sweet Soul) almost out of life too.
Jul. Prithee,
Let me but speak one word.
Wom. You will offend, Sir,
And yet your name is more familiar with her
Than any thing but sorrow, good Sir, go.
Ang. This little Varlet hath her Lesson perfect,
These are the baits they bob with.
Jul. 'Faith I will not.
Wom. I shall be chidden cruelly for this;
But you are such a Gentleman—