Bust. 'Tis my house that's abus'd, the Sister of my flesh
and bloud: oh, oh. [Exeunt.
1. Wench. {'Tis time we all shift for our selves, if this be serious.
2. {However I'll be gone.
3. {And I. [Exeunt.
Ant. You need not fright your beauties pretty souls,
With the least pale complexion of a fear.
Mar. Juno has better courage: and Minerva's more discreet.
Ism. Alas my courage was so counterfeit
It might have been struck from me with a Feather.
Juno ne'r had so weak a presenter.
Am. Sure I was ne'r the wiser for Minerva,
That I find yet about me.
Ism. My dwelling, Sir?
'Tis a poor yeomans roof, scarce a league off,
That never sham'd me yet.
Ant. Your gentle pardon:
I vow my erring eies had almost cast you
For one of the most mortal enemies
That our Family has.
Ism. I'm sorry, Sir,
I am so like your foe: 'Twere fit I hasted
From your offended sight.
Ant. Oh, mistake not,
It was my error, and I do confess it:
You'll not believe you'r welcome; nor can I speak it;
But there's my friend can tell you, pray hear him.