Young. Master Loveless, truly we thought your sails had been hoist: my Mistres is perswaded you are Sea-sick ere this.
El. Lo. Loves she her ill taken up resolution so dearly? Didst thou move her from me?
Young. By this light that shines, there's no removing her, if she get a stiffe opinion by the end. I attempted her to day when they say a woman can deny nothing.
El. Lo. What critical minute was that?
Young. When her smock was over her ears: but she was no more pliant than if it hung about her heels.
El. Lo. I prethee deliver my service, and say, I desire to see the dear cause of my banishment; and then for France.
Young. I'le do't: hark hither, is that your Brother?
El. Lo. Yes, have you lost your memory?
Young. As I live he's a pretty fellow. [Exit.
Yo. Lo. O this is a sweet Brache.