Leo. It was my duty
To wait upon your Grace.
Ag. How fares your Sister,
My beauteous Mistriss, what is she ready yet?
Leo. No doubt she'll lose no time Sir, young Maids in her way
Tread upon thorns, and think an hour an age
Till the Priest has done his part, that theirs may follow:
I saw her not since yesterday i'th' evening:
But Sir, I am sure she is not slack; believe me,
Your grace will find a loving soul.
Ag. A sweet one,
And so much joy I carry in the thought of it,
So great a happiness to know she is mine;
Believe me noble Brother, that to express it
Methinks a Tongue's a poor thing: can do nothing,
Imagination less: who's that that lies there?
Leo. Where Sir?
Ag. Before the door, it looks like a woman.
Leo. This way I came abroad, but then there was nothing,
One of the Maids o'rwatch'd belike:
Ag. It may be.
Leo. But methinks this is no fit place to sleep in.
1 Gent. 'Tis sure a woman Sir, she has jewels on too:
She fears no foul play sure.