Cas. I am sure she sighs, Sir, and weeps, good Lady.
Fred. Alas, good Lady, for it,
She should have one could comfort her, Cassandra,
Could turn those tears to joys, a lusty Comforter.
Cas. A comfortable man does well at all hours,
For he brings comfortable things.
Fred. Come hither, & hold your fann between, you have eaten Onions,
Her breath stinks like a Fox, her teeth are contagious,
These old women are all Elder-Pipes, do ye mark me?
[Gives a Purse.
Cas. Yes, Sir, but does your Grace think I am fit,
That am both old and vertuous?
Fred. Therefore the fitter, the older still the better,
I know thou art as holy as an old Cope,
Yet upon necessary use—
Cas. 'Tis true, Sir.
Fred. Her feeling sense is fierce still, speak unto her,
You are familiar; speak I say, unto her,
Speak to the purpose; tell her this, and this.
Cas. Alas, she is honest, Sir, she is very honest,
And would you have my gravity—