ARCITE.
Out with’t, faith.
PALAMON.
She met him in an Arbour:
What did she there, Cuz? play o’th virginals?
ARCITE.
Something she did, Sir.
PALAMON.
Made her groane a moneth for’t, or 2. or 3. or 10.
ARCITE.
The Marshals Sister
Had her share too, as I remember, Cosen,
Else there be tales abroade; you’l pledge her?
PALAMON.
Yes.
ARCITE.
A pretty broune wench t’is. There was a time
When yong men went a hunting, and a wood,
And a broade Beech: and thereby hangs a tale:—heigh ho!
PALAMON.
For Emily, upon my life! Foole,
Away with this straind mirth; I say againe,
That sigh was breathd for Emily; base Cosen,
Dar’st thou breake first?
ARCITE.
You are wide.
PALAMON.
By heaven and earth, ther’s nothing in thee honest.