Luce. 'Is a handsom man.
Isab. The sweetness of his sufferance sets him off, O Luce, but whither go I?
Luce. You cannot hide it.
Isab. I would he had what I can spare.
Luce. 'Tis charitable.
Lance. Come Sir, I'le see you lodg'd, you have tied my tongue fast, I'le steal before you want, 'tis but a hanging.
Isab. That's a good fellow too, an honest fellow, why, this would move a stone, I must needs know; but that some other time. [Exit Lance, and Franc.
Luce. Is the wind there? that makes for me.
Isab. Come, I forgot a business.