Wid. This is boysterous, or say I go to sleep, will you go to sleep with me?
Bel. So suddenly before meat will be dangerous, we know your dinner's ready Lady, you will not sleep.
Wid. Give me my Coach, I will take the air.
Hare. We'l wait on you, and then your meat after a quickned stomach.
Wid. Let it alone, and call my Steward to me, and bid him bring his reckonings into the Orchard, these unmannerly rude puppies— [Exit Widow.
Foun. We'l walk after you and view the pleasure of the place.
Isab. Let her not rest, for if you give her breath, she'l scorn and flout you, seem how she will, this is the way to win her, be bold and prosper.
Bel. Nay if we do not tire her.— [Exeunt.
Isab. I'le teach you to worm me, good Lady sister, and peep into my privacies to suspect me, I'le torture you, with that you hate, most daintily, and when I have done that, laugh at that you love most.
Enter Luce.