Jul. Mistriss? not one word, Mistriss if I grieve ye
I can depart again.
Ang. Let's go then quickly,
For if she get from under this dark Cloud,
We shall both sweat I fear, for't.
Jul. Do but speak
Though you turn from me, and speak bitterly,
And I am gone, for that I think will please you.
Ang. Oh, that all women were thus silent ever,
What fine things they were!
Jul. You have look'd on me,
When (if there be belief in Womens words
Spoken in tears) you swore you lov'd to do so.
Lel. Oh me, my heart!
Ang. Now, Julio, play the man,
Or such another O me will undo thee:
Would I had any thing to keep me busie,
I might not hear her; think but what she is,
Or I doubt mainly, I shall be i'th' mash too.
Jul. 'Pray speak again.
Wom. Here.