Isa. 'Tis all one for that; I warrant you, he sells me the fee-simple of him.
Set. Your father, madam—
Enter NONSUCH.
Isa. The tempest is risen; I see it in his face; he puffs and blows yonder, as if two of the winds were fighting upwards and downwards in his belly.
Set. Will he not find your false keys, madam?
Isa. I hope he will have more humanity than to search us.
Const. You are come after us betimes, sir.
Non. Oh child! I am undone; I am robbed, I am robbed; I have utterly lost all stomach to my dinner.
Const. Robbed! good my lord, how, or of what?
Non. Two hundred and fifty pounds, in fair gold, out of my study: An hundred of it I was to have paid a courtier this afternoon for a bribe.