Enter Urania.
If you but talk with her, with a poor Uncle,
Such as her Mother had.
Ism. She's come again.
Ura. I would fene speak to the good Marquess my brother, if I but thought he could abaid me.
Leu. Sister, how do you?
Ura. Very well I thank you.
Ism. How does your good Mother?
Leu. Fie, fie, Ismenus for shame, mock such an innocent soul as this.
Ura. Feth a she be no good, [G]od may her so.