Isab. I shall deal stoutly with him,
Reach me my Book, a[n]d see the door made fast wench,
And so good night: now to the matter politick.
[Lopez knocks within.
Lop. Within. You shall see what she is, what a sweet jewel.
Isab. Who's there, what mad-man knocks? is this an hour
And in mine Husband's absence?
Lop. Within. Will ye open?
You know my voice ye whore, I am that Husband:
Do you mark her subtilty? but I have paid her,
I have so ferk'd her face: here's the blood Gentlemen,
Ecce signum: I have spoil'd her Goatish beauty,
Observe her how she looks now, how she is painted,
Oh 'tis the most wicked'st whore, and the most treacherous—
Enter Lopez, Bartello, Gent. and two Gentlewomen.
Gent. Here walks my cosin full of meditation,
Arm'd with religious thoughts.
Bar. Is this the monster?
1 Gentlew. Is this the subject of that rage you talk'd of,
That naughty woman you had pull'd a-pieces?
Bar. Here's no such thing.