Ant. I have ridden like a fury, to make up this work, and I will do it bravely, e'r I leave it; this is the house I am sure.
Enter Alexander.
Alex. Who wou'd you speak with, Sir?
Ant. Marry Sir, I would speak with a Gentlewoman, came this night late here from the City, I have some Letters of importance to her, I am a Post Sir, and would be [dispa[t]ch'd] in haste.
Alex. Sir, cannot I deliver 'em? for the truth is, she's ill, and in her chamber.
Ant. Pray pardon me, I must needs speak with her, my business is so weighty.
Alex. I'll tell her so, and bring you present word.
Ant. Pray do so, and I'll attend her, pray god the grief of my imagined death, spoil not what I intend, I hope it will not.
Alex. Though she be very ill, and desires no trouble,
Yet if your business be so urgent, you may come up and speak with her.
Ant. I thank you Sir, I follow you. [Exit Alex.