Ant. Sure we were all to blame, Lady;
But for my part (in all humility
And with no little shame) I ask your pardons,
Indeed I wear no sword to fright sweet beauties.
Am. You have it, and this Letter; pray ye Sir view it,
And my Commission's done.
Mar. Have ye none for me Lady?
Am. Not at this time.
Mar. I am sorry for't; I can read too.
Am. I am glad: but Sir, to keep you in your exercise,
You may chance meet with one ill written.
Mar. Thank ye,
So it be a womans, I can pick the meaning,
For likely they have but one end.
Am. You say true Sir. [Exit.
Ant. Martine, my wishes are come home and loaden,
Loaden with brave return: most happy, happy:
I am a blessed man: where's the Gentlewoman?
Mar. Gone, the spirit's gone, what news?