2 Lady. Alas, how cold they are, poor golls, why dost thee not get thee a Muff?
Arri. Madam, here's an old Countrey Gentlewoman at the door, that came nodding up for justice, she was with the Lord Gondarino to day, and would now again come to the speech of him, she says.
Oria. Let her in, for sports sake, let her in.
Gond. Mercy, oh Duke, I do appeal to thee: plant Canons there, and discharge them against my breast rather: nay, first let this she-fury sit still where she does, and with her nimble fingers stroke my hair, play with my fingers ends, or any thing, until my panting heart have broke my breast.
Duke. You must abide her censure. [The Lady rises from his knee.
Enter old Gentlewoman.
Gond. I see her come, unbutton me, for she will speak.
Gentlew. Where is he Sir?
Gond. Save me, I hear her.
Ar. There he is in state to give you audience.