Gond. Have you done your wassayl? 'tis a handsome drowsie dittie I'll assure ye, now I had as leave hear a Cat cry, when her tail is cut off, as hear these lamentations, these lowsie love-layes, these bewailements: you think you have caught me Lady, you think I melt now, like a dish of May butter, and run, all into brine, and passion, yes, yes, I 'm taken, look how I cross my arms, look pale, and dwyndle, and wo'd cry, but for spoyling my face; we must part, nay we'll avoyd all Ceremony, no kissing Lady, I desire to know your Ladiship no more; death of my soul the Duke!
Oria. God keep your Lordship.
Gond. From thee and all thy sex.
Oria. I'll be the Clark, and crie, Amen,
Your Lordships ever assured enemie Oriana.
[Exit. Oriana, Manet Gondarino.
Actius Tertius. Scæna Secunda.
Enter Duke, Arrigo, Lucia.
Gond. All the days good, attend your Lordship.
Duk. We thank you Gondarino, is it possible?
Can belief lay hold on such a miracle,
To see thee, one that hath cloyst'red up all passion,
Turn'd wilfull votary, and forsworn converse with women, in
company and fair discourse, with the best beauty of Millain?