Ros.[126] But by the help of art or nature, ere I change my periwig, mine shall be as red.
Fla.[127] O ay, that face, that eye, that smile, that writhing of your body, that wanton dandling of your fan, becomes prethely, so sweethly, ’tis even the goodest lady that breathes, the most amiable——. Faith, the fringe of your satin petticoat is ript. Good faith, madam, they say you are the most bounteous lady to your women that ever—— most delicious beauty! Good madam, let me kith it.
Feli. Rare sport, rare sport! A female fool, and a female flatterer. 164
Ros. Body o’ me, the Duke! away[128] the glass!
Enter Piero.
Pier. Take up your paper, Rossaline.
Ros. Not mine, my Lord.
Pier. Not yours, my Lady? I’ll see what ’tis.
Bal. And how does my sweet mistress? O Lady dear, even as ’tis an old say, “’tis an old horse can neither wighy,[129] nor wag his tail:” even so do I hold my set face still: even so, ’tis a bad courtier that can neither discourse, nor blow his nose. 173
Pier.—[reads.] Meet me at Abraham’s, the Jew’s, where I bought my Amazon’s disguise. A ship lies in the port, ready bound for England; make haste, come private. Antonio.